The place we call home
by LisbethMegalomania
Summary: Hermione finds herself in a bit of a situation, when she wakes up in 1937 scared and confused. Back in her 10-year-old body she must come to terms with her new life fast if she wants to prevent the future from repeating itself. If there only wasn't the small problem of the Lestrange brothers having come back as well. Pureblood!Hermione (Kind of)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

An ear-shattering explosion to her left ripped the panting girl from her stupor. Before her pursuers could catch up to her, Hermione continued her mad-dash through the crumbling corridors of the castle she had once called her home.

"Stupid mudblood - why won't you just die already?!" Rodolphus Lestrange, the husband of the manic witch that was still haunting her every nightmare was closing in on her. Feeling her heart beating faster in her chest, Hermione skidded around another corner down towards the Great Hall.

 _Come on, just a little further_. She thought desperately, even though her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had been running from the two brothers for what had felt like an eternity when to her horror, the second brother managed to slice her leg with a nasty curse. Hot pain shot up her thigh, causing her to fall to the hard ground.

"I got her!" Rabastan Lestrange called triumphantly.

Hermione's breath hitched as she heard the man come to a halt behind her.

"What a sad excuse for a witch you are little Mudblood" He pulled her up from the ground, the man's rough hands painfully digging into her tangled locks in the process.

Her captor smelled like the fires the Death Eaters had ignited all over the castle. Hermione felt like her heart was about to stop when the husband of the now thankfully very dead Bellatrix Lestrange stopped in front of her, lowering himself down to her face. "Not so brave anymore, are we now?" He hissed, a mad smile dancing over his chapped lips.

Hermione whimpered as she struggled to break out of the other brother's painful hold. In response, he tightened his grip around her neck, forcing Hermione to lean even further towards the vile man.

Hot tears were blurring her vision, "Just kill me already. Make your Lord proud by killing Potter's fucking Mudblood." She spat defiantly.

"Your words are just as dirty as your blood girl, disgusting." The brother that wasn't holding her sneered down at Hermione.

"What are you waiting for Rod, kill her already!" Rabastan Lestrange shoved her towards his brother. The cut on her leg burned in protest at the sudden move, making Hermione lose her balance. Before she could catch herself, she fell to her knees.

"Right where you belong Mudblood." The older brother snarled, pointing his wand at the trembling girl. _I'm sorry Harry. I failed you. I failed everyone_.

Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to find some inner strength but she was just so very tired.

 _I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared_. Gathering the remainders of her strenght, she raised her head, meeting the older Lestrange's cold eyes head on.

"Avada Kedavra!" The curse hit her directly in the chest. For a second it felt as if someone had stabbed her right through the heart, twisting the knife sideways. But just as fast as the pain had enveloped her it vanished, instead being replaced by a feeling of utter content.

* * *

Hermione Granger fell on the eve of the final battle, her wand still clutched tightly in her bloodied right hand. She did not see the horrified faces of her captors as the tell-tale green light engulfed their forms as well, forcing them to their knees. She did not hear McGonagall's sorrowful calls for help as she found her student's body just a few moments too late, surrounded by the two corpses of the Lestrange brothers. No, Hermione Granger's soul had left her body before it had even hit the hard stone tiles, ready to pass on.

* * *

Something wet fell on her face. Irritated Hermione wiped her cheeks before turning to the side in an attempt to fall back asleep. A moment later another drop rolled down her nose, shortly followed by another one.

"Oh for Merlin's Sake!" She grumbled.

Slowly opening her eyes, she came face to face with something that looked suspiciously like cabbage. "What the-?" Confused, Hermione pushed herself from the muddy ground and looked around herself. She was standing in the middle of a field. A seemingly endless, muddy cabbage field!  
 _  
Where in Merlin's name am I_? The flabbergasted girl took a few steps forward before coming to an abrupt halt. "…This can't be the afterlife." She whispered, trying not to hyperventilate. _Calm down, Hermione. You're the brightest witch of your age, so act like it for Merlin's sake_! But her body seemed to have its own idea of an appropriate reaction. Her lungs constricted, making every breath feel like something sharp was piercing through her chest.

"They killed me, I should be dead!" Turning to one particularly offensive looking cabbage Hermione furiously whiped away some stray tears that were rolling down her cold cheeks. She was freezing, and the rain most certainly didn't make things any better.

 _For Godric's sake, I can't even die properly_. Taking a deep breath, she pinched her nose. "First, I need to get out of the rain. Then I'll think about what to do next." Clutching her wand as if it was the only thing separating her from completely losing it, she was about to cast a warming charm on herself when she noticed how disproportional big her wand was in comparison to her hand. "That's strange." Hermione murmured to herself, furrowing her brows.

 _Something about this feels wrong_. Looking down at her feet, she took notice of her baggy jeans. The last time she'd checked, she'd most certainly not been wearing pants three times her actual size. They were still her jeans no doubt, the dirt, as well as the torn bit where Rabastan's curse had cut into her leg, were still there. _Then why_ – Before Hermione could finish her thoughts a spell hit her right between the shoulders, sending her crumbling to the ground.

„If it isn't Potters Mudblood again. My- don't you look fucking tiny." Rodolphus Lestrange pulled the dazed girl back to her feet. Hermione tried to comprehend what the Death Eater was telling her, but it was hard to form a proper thought with the way her vision was spinning at that moment.

"Brother, what does this all mean?" As if one Lestrange wasn't already bad enough, the younger one came into view as well, and Hermione began to question her sanity. Was she actually dead? Was this hell?

"I don't know Rabastan, I'm sure she does though." At the end of his answer, he painfully pulled Hermione's arm and turned back to look at her. Forcing her mounting fears down, Hermione glared up to the two brothers, somewhat aware that they shouldn't be that far up. Startled she realised the height difference between the man holding her and herself.

 _This can't be. How can they-_ "What are you talking about, why would I know what happened?" Sneering, Rodolphus Lestrange pulled her hand up to his face, nearly dislocating Hermione's shoulder in the process. _How is this man suddenly so tall_?

"Better think again Mudblood, or this might not end pretty for you." He hissed and looked her dead in the eyes. Hermione struggled against his steel grip until the man let go with an irritated huff.

"What do you expect me to say, you two killed me! As far as I know, I'm dead." She responded, rubbing her sore wrist. _If I can still feel pain, I can't be dead_. Not that she would tell this to the two Death Eaters who seemed to haunt her person even after they killed her.

"Lies. This is not the afterlife, girl." Rabastan answered, his voice nearly getting lost in the pouring rain. Hermione shuddered as she felt it soaking through her loose clothes, desperately trying to think up a plan to get away from the two maniacs. _I need to leave this place before they come up with their own theories._ She had to find someone from the Order, Shacklebolt or Moody. Anyone that might be able to tell her what had happened.

"We need to get out of this rain. Rabastan check the farm over there for any signs of life. Kill anyone who gets in your way." Rodolphus told his brother and Hermione turned around, trying to find the farmhouse the Death Eaters were talking about.

At last in the distance, she made out the faint silhouette of a house when she registered the rest of Rodolphus' words. "What? No! You can't just kill the people that might live here - That's barbaric!"

The older brother clicked his tongue. "You should worry about yourself Mudblood. Can't defend yourself if you still got the trace, eh?"

Confused Hermione looked up to the man when everything suddenly fell into place. She felt her knees giving out under the sudden realisation. If Rodolphus hadn't been holding her still, she would have found herself on the muddy ground again. _This can't be. Magic can't reverse your age. At least not to this extent_.

Noticing her internal crisis, the older Lestrange laughed cruelly at her. "Wanna know how old you look?" He taunted, making Hermione grit her teeth.

"Based on our difference in height, and how large my clothes are on me, I can confidently say that I must be at least under the age of twelve." She answered with her best insufferable Know-it-all voice.

"Ain't you a smart little Mudblood, hm?" Rodolphus sounded irked, but just as he was about to say something else, his brother called for them.

The vile man pulled Hermione with him through the rain towards the farm, unbothered by the fact that she could barely keep up with the tall wizard.

"I found two Muggles in the house, old folks. Got rid of them before they even got up from the table." Rabastan told them while leading them through the front door to a small sitting area. Feeling sick to her stomach and entirely out of her depth Hermione allowed Rodolphus to shove her to the nearest sofa. Before she could react, he snatched her wand and sat down with his brother across from her.

 _Get it together Hermione._ With newfound determination, she squared her aching shoulders. "Give me back my wand." The older brother laughed at her request. "And let you alert the Ministry to our presence? I don't think so, girl." Hermione rolled her eyes at his answer while crossing her arms in front of her shivering body. She was completely drenched.

Rodolphus leant back in his seat, observing the girl in front of him for a few seconds. „I killed you. Something went wrong, and the curse rebounded. Are you seriously telling me to believe that you had nothing to do with this?" He finally stated, his cold eyes daring her to disagree with him.

"How do you expect me to accomplish such a thing? Do you think I just swing my wand and suddenly I'm immune to the Killing Curse?" Her flippant answer was apparently the wrong thing to say as she was suddenly hit with excruciating pain.

"Don't get smart with me Mudblood. If you're useless, I might just as well kill you again." Hissed the older brother, watching Hermione suffer a few seconds longer before lifting the curse.

"Now let's try this again. What did you do?!" He stood up, painfully grabbing her wet curls. He got so close that Hermione could see the stubbles of dark hair on his lower face, indicating that he hadn't shaved in a few days. _Is it just the light or does he look much younger as well_? Hermione asked herself, trying to not have a full-blown panic attack in front of the two men. She felt as if she was back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix maniacal cackles echoing in her mind as she looked up at the late woman's husband.

"I said, that I don't know. Maybe you cursing me somehow activated the time turner I was wearing, but that is A, completely impossible, as it broke during my third year, and B, even if it worked it can't just de-age three people. That's not how it works."

"Who just carries a time turner around with them - And why would the ministry even allow a teenager to have one for that matter?" Rabastan looked incredulously at the child across from him.

Hermione angrily pursed her lips at his words, offended that he thought she didn't know how dangerous it was to be in possession of such a powerful object. His brother took a deep breath, trying to contain his apparent fury at the girl. Just as he was about to curse her again, his eyes fell on something on the wall behind her. A few seconds passed before Rabastan also noticed his brother's sudden silence and even Hermione eventually turned around to see what got the death eater to suddenly forget about his anger.

When Hermione realised what he had been staring at, her heart skipped a beat. On the other side of the room, on the wall just above an antiquated record player hung a small, plain calendar. Nothing special about it. Except for the date that was. Hermione's mouth went dry as she read the numbers over and over again. _23rd of August 1937_ … She heard Rabastan seemingly choke on his own spit as he read the date. For a minute the room fell silent. Then all hell broke loose.

"Morgana help us. What did you do girl?!"

Hermione knew Rodolphus was asking her, well yelling at her. But all she could think of was where in life she had taken the wrong turn to end up here. Sixty Years in the past, with two of the most dangerous men in existence. _I can't do this. This is insane. I should just let them kill me again._

"Obviously, your fucking time turner ain't as broken as you think Mudblood." Hermione could tell, that the older Lestrange was losing it. He nearly looked feverish as his eyes glazed over. _This is absolutely impossible, no time turner should be able to transport anyone, let alone three people that far back in time_.

"Tell me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you girl," Rodolphus asked her then, his voice sounding much older than he actually was.

 _Harry, what should I do? Merlin, I don't know! For the first time in my life, I don't fucking know_. Hermione was a sharp girl, she knew, that she needed an answer fast to get Rodolphus to listen to her. They had to lay low, better yet, she had to contact the ministry or Dumbledore, someone that could help them get back to their own time. Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself again, that she was the smartest witch of her age and if someone would be able to think of a plan, it was her. Now she only had to get the Death Eaters to listen to her.

Determined she grabbed the thin chain around her neck and pulled the object from under her ill-fitting jumper. "Killing me would be a stupid move, Lestrange. Seeing as I am the one with the time turner." Dangling the small device in front of his face, she folded her legs and glared at the two brothers. "If we want to get back to our own time, we have to contact someone at the ministry. It's possible that someone from the Department of Mysteries might be able to help us."

Rodolphus scowled at her words, shaking his head. "We'll not talk to anyone about this, they'll lock us up again, and even if I don't care what they'll do to you, I most certainly will not go back to Azkaban."

Rabastan eagerly nodded at his brothers' words whereas Hermione just threw her arms up, expressing her frustration at the older man's reasoning.  
"It's against the law, we have to report what's happened to us!" She argued but was only met with shrugs from the two brothers.

"As if we would care girl. No, we'll stay low and think of an explanation of how we got here." Rodolphus put his wand away and began pacing around the small room. The rain was still pouring outside the windows and Hermione tried not to think about the dead couple in the next room. _They can't be serious. This is insane! We can't just stay in this time. We could seriously mess up the future by just sitting here_ , _never mind building a life in this time period_! Hermione's thoughts jumped from one awful scenario to another, as she thought of the consequences of their presence, digging her nails into her hand until she felt blood running down her fingers.

"Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time. We can't just pretend to belong here!" Hermione quoted the words of her professor hoping to make them see the insanity of Rodolphus' words.

But the older brother didn't even acknowledge her warning."Our family still lives in France at this point in time, we should compel them to believe us to be their relatives for now." Rodolphus began, pulling back his wet locks, which had continued to fall into his eyes during his speech. "Get access to our family vaults and then back here to find a more suitable place to stay, no way will I live with those snail-eating Frenchmen."

Hermione was rendered speechless by his words, unable to comprehend the recklessness of his plans. _How can someone be that foolish_? She wondered as she listened to his insane ramblings. "What about the Mudblood?" Rabastan spoke up, "She will rat us out, the moment we leave her."

His brother came to an abrupt stop. Hermione's fear skyrocketed at his calculating gaze. "Well, we have to make sure she doesn't do that then, right?"

Feeling shivers running down her spine, she sighed quietly. _I'll not get out of this alive_. _Maybe that's for the best_. "I won't say anything, I'm not stupid enough to think you'd just let me go." She argued, trying to gauge the older brothers' reaction.

Pursuing his lips, he attempted to find any deception in her words. "You may still be useful in the future Mudblood, your blasted time turner brought us here, maybe it'll bring us back someday." He finally answered, and without waiting for her reply, he continued. "Still, I'll not have a filthy Mudblood living in my house, so what to do with you, hm?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the man's hollow insult, tired of their prejudice. She knew that she had to put up with whatever he said in order to get out of this mess alive, so she stopped herself from snapping back at him settling for a long glare instead.

"We could just drop her off at some orphanage until she gets her Hogwarts letter," Rabastan suggested, looking at the girl with a thoughtful expression on his face. Hermione noticed that he didn't look much older than herself back in the future and again wondered how the time turners magic managed to reverse their ages and even more importantly why it did. _I need to look into this as soon as I can_.

"I'm afraid this plan will not work; you know with the whole thing of me not being born yet? The letters are addressed to the children whose names were added to the registry at the Ministry the day they were born." Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest and continued. "My name is not on that list. Not for a long time at least." She finished her explanation and watched with a twisted kind of satisfaction, as the older Lestrange's face darkened progressively throughout her little lecture.

Eventually, he just threw his head back, attempting to collect himself before addressing her, the fingers around his wand twitching to curse her again. "I don't care. My brother and I will go to France and sort everything out, and you'll be a good little Mudblood and stay at some orphanage for now. Understood?"  
Hermione wanted to protest, but Rodolphus was faster. "I asked if you understood?" He growled, threateningly pointing his wand at her shivering form. _Stupid git_. She thought quietly to herself but gave him a curt nod.

"Good. Drop her off somewhere in London Rabastan. I'll meet you at the international Portkey station." He spoke and apparated away from the small farmhouse before Hermione could ask him to return her wand. Rabastan just groaned at his brothers' orders and grabbed the little girl by her shoulder before apparating to the first Muggle park in London he could think of.

* * *

Hermione felt her entire body being tightly squished together before finding herself and her captor in a quiet Park with not a single Person in sight. Dazed she tried to balance her exhausted body by leaning against the nearest tree. "Go find someone to help you, tell them you lost your parents or something." He ordered and was about to apparate away before Hermione stopped him.

"Wait! I can't wander around in these clothes. People will ask questions, and I can't use magic myself." The man rolled his eyes at her. _Well it's not my fault your insane brother took my wand, is it_? She thought, watching Rabastan silently wave his wand at her. She felt the wet fabric slowly transform itself on her body.

When he was finished the younger Lestrange brother nodded to himself before vanishing again, leaving Hermione stranded god knows where. Sporting a plain dress in the same grey colour as her jeans had been, she awkwardly lingered around her hiding spot for a few more seconds. Brushing over some none existent wrinkles on her skirt she took a deep breath before determinedly stepping onto the nearest pathway. _Okay, I can do this. I need to find a phone box and get to the ministry before those wretched brothers come back_.

Feeling somewhat hopeful for the first time since their unexpected arrival in this time, Hermione quickly exited the small Park and turned around herself in search for one of the classic red telephone boxes that could save her from this nightmare. As she took in her surroundings, Hermione suddenly became aware of how far back in time she had actually gone. Observing the countless pedestrians around her, dressed in very much outdated clothes she had only ever seen in her grandma's old photo books before she sighed. _This is insane_! Hermione's gaze wandered over the old cars that passed by her, polluting the air so much with their antiquated engines that she felt like she had to cover her nose to be able to breathe right next to the street.

"I need to move." She murmured and was about to cross the street to continue her search when a deep voice stopped her.

"Where are your parent's girl, you lost?" Hermione turned around to come face to face with a policeman dressed like the ones from the old storybooks she had read as a child.

Swallowing her growing panic she shook her head. "No sir, everything is fine, I was just on my way home." The police officer looked her up and down once, noticing her damp hair and strange shoes.

"The sun's been shining for days here in London, where is your home girl?" Hermione cursed at the man's perceptiveness and tried to think of a street in the area.

She didn't recognise any of the buildings around her. _I'm so screwed_. "Penton Street, Sir." She finally answered, remembering her Mother telling her she'd lived there during her time studying in London.

Hermione knew she'd messed up when she saw the officer furrowing his brows. What she would give for her wand at this moment.

"Quite a mile from here, isn't it? I think it would be best if I brought you with me 'till we manage to contact your parents." Realising that her protest would only make her seem even more suspicious, she dully nodded and proceeded to follow the officer through the streets. After a few minutes, the burly man turned to face her again.

"I know an orphan when I see one girl. Don't know where you ran from but I'll bring you to Mrs Cole for the time being." Cursing her bad luck Hermione tried to look like he caught her in the act. What act precisely that was, she didn't quite know, but his stern gaze seemed to soften at her pitiful look, and he sighed.

"I know it's hard girl, but when you grow up, you'll see that life at the orphanage isn't that bad." She just stayed silent at his words, hoping that she'd be able to get away from this Mrs Cole as fast as possible. After turning around another corner for what felt like the hundredth time, they finally arrived at a run-down building that stood tall between the grey three-story houses around it. Hermione suddenly felt compassion welling up inside her chest for the grimy looking children playing in front of the house on patchy concrete, with not a single green tree in sight.

"Here we are, Wool's Orphanage. One of the better ones in this city." The officer told her and Hermione sceptically raised a brow at his words. This was what they considered the nicer option? _Merlin how much worse than this can it get_? He gently steered her through the rusty gates, and Hermione tried to ignore the curious stares she received from the other children. _You're a seventeen-year-old witch Hermione, don't let those kids get under your skin_. But as she walked up the worn-down stairs to the front door, she could still feel the eyes of a particularly mean looking bunch of teenagers on her back.

"Officer O'Malley, what brings you here? Not another stray you picked up I hope." A woman that had to be in her late forties walked out of one of the rooms to Hermione's left and proceeded to dry her Hands on her apron before shaking the officer's hand. Her skin seemed to be just as dull and grey as her hair. When she looked down at Hermione, her dark eyes turned into slits.

"Officer, I already told you last week. I can't even feed the children that I have, we don't have room for another hungry mouth." The woman tried to sound pleasant, but Hermione could hear the thinly veiled annoyance behind her forced smile.

"But Mrs Cole you are the only Matron in this town that I could ever trust with those poor children." O'Malley put on his most winning smile, and she could practically see the woman melt like butter in his hands. It would have been funny if she hadn't been so desperate to find a way to contact the Ministry.

"Officer you flatter me. You're probably right; one more child won't be the end of the world. But you have to promise me to stop bringing strays to my house." Batting her eyelashes in a way that she must have thought to look good at the man, Hermione had to stop herself from cringing at the awkward display of affection. _What did I ever do to deserve all of this_? She asked herself for the tenth time that day desperately praying for someone to just wake her up from this nightmare.

"Hear that girl? You should thank Mrs Cole for her generosity and stay out of trouble from now." He looked expectantly at her, and Hermione realised that he had meant his words quite literally. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at him and the Matron she put on a strained smile.

"Of course, excuse my bad manners, thank you for taking me in Mrs Cole." _Merlin, I sound so young._ Trying not to overthink the fact that she was a little girl again, Hermione continued to look up to the two adults. "At least that one has manners. Can you read girl?" Hermione noticed that the Matron still hadn't asked her for her name. She knew at that moment, that this woman couldn't care less if Hermione suddenly vanished overnight. _Perfect_.

"I can read and write Mrs Cole. I am also able to do basic calculus." The Matron seemed to be genuinely happy about her answer.

"Wonderful. You can teach the smaller ones then as well. Tom and Amy are the only others that can write properly, and with over fifty children it's quite difficult to teach everyone the basics." Hermione was appalled by the apparent lack of education of the children and was once more reminded that these were indeed different times. _Maybe I should stay here for a bit and see that the children can at least write their names properly_. She shook her head. _I can't meddle with time any more than I already do_.

"Well, duty calls Mrs Cole. Thanks for taking care of the girl." Officer O'Malley tipped his hat and quickly took off before the Matron could engage him in any more exciting conversation. Hermione watched Mrs Cole's face fall as the Officer excused himself, before clearing her throat and looking down at the newest addition to the orphanage.

"Well, what are you waiting for, go ask Mary for a clean Uniform and then come down to the Hall for dinner. Tomorrow I will introduce you to the children you'll teach. Your room number is 11, you'll be sharing it with Amy for now." With that Hermione was effectively dismissed. Not entirely sure where she could find this Mary she walked around the orphanage aimlessly for a while before another clearly malnourished boy showed her how to get to the woman's office. _It's best to wait until everyone's asleep. After that, I'll leave and search for a telephone Box_.

* * *

"You need to wear your hair in a braid or short, always wear your tights and clean your shoes on Sunday for church." Mary was a young woman with thin blonde hair and a mousy face. She must have been around Hermione's age in the future and had a no-nonsense attitude that rivalled the one of her old transfiguration Professor.

"I understand, anything else I should know?" Hermione asked, ready to just get to her room, lie down and cry for a bit.

"Breakfast is at seven, dinner at four. Don't be late or there will be no food left. Your room must always to be tidy, personal belongings have to be put in your locker." Given that Hermione had nothing but the clothes she was wearing, she didn't see any problems with this rule. She thanked the girl, grabbed her grey uniform and left in search of her room. After climbing up the narrow stairs to the third floor, she spotted a door with her room number on it and eagerly entered the small space. _What a dreary place. No wonder orphanages in the past had such a bad reputation_. There wasn't much to see, two beds stood at the opposite ends of the room, a single small window in between them. The walls were as colourless as her new uniform and blended in nicely with the metal bedframes and identical small lockers on the walls behind them.

"Well, at least there are no murderous death eaters around." She told to herself, before sitting down on the bed that looked unused. Looking down at the clearly worn uniform in her lap she absentmindedly pulled at a loose string on her grey tights. _I need to get away before they return from their trip to France._ Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of a bell. She heard doors around her being opened and countless voices filling the corridors. _Must be time for dinner then_. Hermione quickly changed into her Uniform, wanting to blend in with the other children as best as she could. The last thing she needed, was to draw even more attention to herself than she already did earlier that day.

* * *

"Is this seat free?" Hermione asked the pale boy in front of her, carrying a small bowl filled with bland porridge, in one hand, and a metal container filled with water in the other. The boy regarded her with an icy glare that made her flinch, his dark locks standing in stark contrast to his ashen skin, the lack of nutrition evident on his gaunt face.

"No." Was all he said before going back to his meal, clearly not wanting to interact any further with the startled girl. Glaring first at him, then at the clearly unoccupied seat opposite from him Hermione rolled her eyes. _What a little shit_. Smiling sweetly at the boy, she spun on her heels in search for another table.

"Don't mind Tom, he doesn't like other people." Whispered the older girl, who'd offered Hermione to sit with her. She just nodded, not feeling like wasting her time talking to people she wouldn't see again anyways. _Better stay away from everyone and not mess up the timeline even further_. She finished her meagre dinner and returned to her room after excusing herself from the table before any of the other girls could ask her any more questions about her person.

* * *

Exhausted Hermione crawled under her thin blanket. Before she could stop it, hot tears clouded her vision. Her entire body shook as she shamelessly sobbed into her pillow, wishing to be anywhere else but in that dreadful orphanage. It had finally hit her, she was alone and utterly helpless, and none of her friends would come to save her. She thought about Ron and how she saw him fall next to his older brothers' body, as Rockwood fired a curse at him before he could even raise his own wand. Hermione's heart clenched painfully in her chest when she felt the despair that had built up in her finally spill over, consuming her entirely. It physically hurt to breath. Fearing that she might faint over the lack of oxygen reaching her brain Hermione nearly missed the sound of the door to her room opening again.

"What the hell? If you keep crying for the rest of the night, I'll slap you silly." A gangly girl that couldn't have been much older than Hermione herself closed the door behind her and proceeded to take off her shoes. Hermione tried to regain control of her shaking body, but the tears just wouldn't stop coming. _God, I must look pathetic_. She furiously wiped away her tears with her blanket, trying to tune out the nagging of the girl on the other bed.

"Just suck it up. I don't want a cry-baby for a roommate." The girl – Amy, if Hermione remembered correctly, put on a simple nightgown after brushing and braiding her hair. Hermione finally felt her heart rate slowing down to a manageable level and the world stopped spinning around her. She drew in long shaky breaths in an attempt to push her tumultuous emotions back down. _I can do this. Just a little longer and everything will be back to normal._

She turned to face the wall, determined to wait until the sun went down so she could leave this horrible place. Hermione listened to Amy's quiet breathing, as the girl finally fell asleep and carefully turned on her squeaking bed. Just when she was about to get up, she heard someone stop in front of their door and turn a key in the lock. Hermione's mind came to a screeching halt as she registered what had just happened.

 _They lock the doors overnight_. Feeling dread pooling in her stomach, she went to the door and carefully pushed down the handle just to make sure. It was indeed locked. Suddenly furious at the audacity at the Matron's action Hermione put her hands on her hips and looked upwards to calm herself down. _This is just a minor inconvenience. I will just leave tomorrow after breakfast when everyone is washing up_. Hermione continued to repeat those words in her head until she eventually fell into a restless slumber.

* * *

"No. Don't write it like that. This is how an A looks like." Hermione explained to the six-year-old girl, that sat at the table in front of her, looking at the young witch like she'd just told her, her pet rabbit had died. _One Week_. She had been at this dreadful orphanage for a whole week! After her numerous escape attempts were either foiled by the children who had caught her sneaking out or the Matron herself who in turn had locked her up in her room for the remainder of the day, telling her to think about her selfish actions. On her sixth day, she had finally given up and went on to teach the younger children how to spell their names to win Mrs Cole's trust. Once she'd achieve that seemingly impossible feat, she would find a way to get away from this place.

During her stay, she tried to steer clear of the other children, only occasionally chatting with Amy in the evenings or to be more precise, listening to Amy's rantings, nodding when the girl looked at her for support. To her surprise, Tom was another person she often spend her days with when they sat together in the pitiful excuse of what Mrs Cole liked to call the library of the orphanage. He was a quiet boy, who obviously had some issues, seeing as he scared away any kid that dared to cross his path in the hallway, but he was also the only other child in this place that liked books. So, Hermione found herself more than once in his presence, discussing the few novels the orphanage owned, like Charles Dickens and some worn down Encyclopaedia's that looked like they had been printed before Mrs Cole had even been born. Tom was also the only other person she had ever told her name, so when one day another child came into the library looking for a Hermione, she instantly grew suspicious.

"Mrs Cole wants you in her office." Offering no further explanation, the boy ran back to his friends, while Hermione excused herself, unaware that this would be the last time she would ever see this room again. On her way to the Matrons' small office at the back of the house, she tried to think of a reason why the woman would request her presence but couldn't think of anything that warranted this visit. Intrigued she knocked on her door and waited for an answer.

"Come in." The strict woman opened the door and ushered the girl into her office. Hermione turned to see who the other person at her desk was, and nearly suffered a small heart attack when she recognised the imposing figure of Rabastan Lestrange, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

"Hermione your uncle is here to pick you up. Why didn't you tell me you had relatives in the countryside?" She sounded flustered, probably having noticed her visitors strange, but nonetheless expensive looking attire. Hermione tried to keep up a pleasant façade while trying to avoid the man's eyes. _Should've tried to get away sooner_. _Why is he telling Mrs Cole that he's my uncle_?

"I'm sorry Mrs Cole, I wasn't aware of any relatives of mine." She eventually answered, trying to sound confused and not scared beyond her wits. Even though the woman wasn't the most righteous human being, Hermione didn't think that she would just give a little girl to a stranger.

"Don't be daft girl, those ludicrous curls of yours clearly run in the family." _Scratch that_. Mrs Cole would definitely give her away to a strange man she'd never met. Hermione's insides twisted when she thought about how many boys and girls this woman might have already given away, exposing them to God knows what horrors.

"Awfully sorry Mrs Cole, our Hermione here ran away after a disagreement with her father. She's quite the stubborn thing." Rabastan sounded so convincing. The way he was carrying himself - Hermione could practically see the bribes being thrown at the Matron to overlook any discrepancies. _What a horrible person_.

"Of course you deserve a reward for your efforts of keeping my niece safe." As if he had heard her thoughts, the wizard handed Mrs Cole a small envelope with what Hermione knew must have been enough money to feed the orphanage for a month. Disgusted she curled her lips as she watched the Matron count the notes.

"How very kind of you sir. Hermione didn't bring anything with her so feel free to leave Mr Lestrange." The woman spoke without even looking up from the money.

Hermione yelped out in pain at the man's bruising grip as pulled the girl out of the office, not even bothering to bid his farewell to the greedy Matron. Once outside she struggled to get away from him, but before she could call for help, he apparated them away from the empty hallway.

* * *

"Let go of me you Bastard!" Hermione yelled the moment they appeared in front of an imposing Manor. Taken aback she looked around for a split second before continuing her efforts to get away from the man.

"Where are we, what are we doing here?" She asked under her breath as she tried to keep up with Rabastan who was basically dragging her through the dark gates of the estate, proceeding to pull her up the wide stairs to the double winged front doors. _Merlin, they're gonna kill me_. Scared beyond wits, she doubled her efforts to get away from the man.

"Will you stop struggling. We won't kill you girl." Scoffing at his words, Hermione tried to pry his fingers from her pounding wrist.

"As if I'd believe anything you say. I demand you let me go." She hissed when he just tightened his grip on her even more, completely aware of the pain he was causing her. He led her through a large hall with dark wooden walls and even darker rugs on the floor, making the whole house seem sombre and oppressing. _What is this gloomy place_? They went up an impressive set of finely carved stairs, illuminated only by the enchanted stained glass windows above them, the moving mosaic figurines turning their heads as they passed by them.

Rabastan saw Hermione's apparent wonder at the large windows and hummed. "Welcome to Lestrange Manor, the original home of my family before we moved to the continent." Hermione sucked in her breath as she looked up to the man who was still dragging her through the winding corridors of his ancestral home. _This is where they grew up? Figures. This house practically oozes dark magic_.

The younger Lestrange brother stopped in front of a broad set of wooden doors and knocked. A moment later the doors swung open by themselves and Hermione was pushed towards Rabastan's brother, who sat at an imposing mahogany desk looking down at the girl as if she was somehow offending him with her mere presence.

"The Mudblood has finally arrived. I see you kept your promise to keep your mouth shut." Hermione bit her tongue to prevent herself from telling him about her countless attempts to get away from the orphanage. She needed to keep her calm. Rodolphus looked surprisingly put together without his intimidating Death Eater Robes billowing behind his every step. Like his brother, he had trimmed his hair so that it didn't fall back into his hollow face every time he turned his head.

The only thing that still made her skin crawl were his cold eyes that seemed to strip every protective layer from her person, leaving her bare with just her courage protecting her from the dangerous man. "What do you want Lestrange?" Swallowing down her growing fear, she put on a brave front, determined to show them that it didn't bother her to be standing in the same room with the men that had killed so many of her classmates, without her wand. _They won't hurt me_. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Harry's.

"You do realise that no matter how hard you try, you still look like a scared little girl right?" Rodolphus taunted as he watched the child narrow her eyes at him in return. After letting her stew under his piercing gaze for a few more seconds, he was impressed when the girl still didn't look away.

"Gryffindors." He spat, before continuing. "After thinking over our situation, I've concluded that this is, over anything else, an opportunity." Hermione watched the man absentmindedly play with what she instantly recognised as her wand and scowled.

"You know my stance on this matter. Give me back my wand." As if he'd just noticed what he'd been holding, the older Lestrange brother's lips pulled into a predatory grin. He inspected the wood in his hand carefully before suddenly grabbing it with both hands and snapping it in two. "No!" Furious Hermione leapt at him to retrieve her broken wand but Rabastan grabbed her from behind and pulled her back.

"I don't like how you look at me Mudblood. You should respect your superiors." Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as Hermione watched Rodolphus throw her broken wand to the floor without wasting any more thoughts on his action.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, our reason for being here." Leaning back in his green leather chair, he looked first at his brother then back to Hermione.  
"It has come to my attention that our Lord is still but a child in this time." Hermione tried to pull herself together and listen to the man's words.  
"This is the perfect opportunity to change the outcome of the war and ensure the Dark Lord's success."

"Are you actually insane?" At his words, Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Rodolphus had the audacity to laugh at her incredulous voice.

"Wouldn't you like that as well girl? Save your friends, prevent a useless war from happening, if our Lord just…I don't know-" He paused seemingly trying to think of the right words to say. "…assumed a more conservative position of power. Like becoming the Minister of Magic for example?"

And suddenly Hermione knew why they'd kept her alive. _It makes perfect sense_. "You want to use me as a tool to get close to Tom Riddle during his school years."

A manic gleam took over his eyes as the older man leaned over the desk and grabbed Hermione by her collar to pull her closer to him. "What a clever little Mudblood you are. Rabastan told me you were a bright thing." Disgusted she freed herself from his loose grip, hastily stepping out of his reach. She knew that these men were insane, but this plan of theirs? She couldn't even fully comprehend the tremendous ripples their involvement would cause in the fabrics of time. _This can't be happening_.

"This is madness. Are you even slightly aware of the consequences this plan of yours might have?!" Hermione crossed her arms and began pacing. " For all we know we could completely rip apart the strands of time." Momentarily forgetting her fear for the two wizards, she threw her hands in the air. "You can't do this Lestrange. We have to stay low and try to keep out of other people's businesses, not change the entire god damn future of the wizarding world!" She exclaimed, her cheeks turning red from her anger at the two men. Before she could continue her rant, Rodolphus spoke up.

"It's either that or you watching history repeat itself. And I will make sure you'll watch every single one your friends die painfully." Hermione looked up at the man and realised that he was being serious about this. _This can't be happening_. Hermione felt all the anger leave her small body, instead being replaced with all-consuming dread. She had no other option. She had no wand, and even if she did, even with all her battle experience, she wouldn't be able to take both brothers out at the same time. Hermione suddenly felt as if the world was going to swallow her whole and she paled considerably when the hopelessness of her situation became apparent to her.

* * *

The Lestrange brothers watched the girl grabbing her fizzling hair in an attempt to control her magic. Without a wand, she was prone to accidental magic again, especially at her current age.

Rodolphus didn't flinch when the windows in his office shattered and let the girl have her moment, as he knew from the antics of his manic wife, that after her outbursts she'd always seemed to calm down considerably. Rabastan stepped away from the girl when she suddenly turned and ran from his brother's study.

"Let her go, Rab."

* * *

After aimlessly stumbling around the dark corridors for a few minutes, Hermione eventually broke down in the backyard of the manor, pulling a few patches of grass from the ground and throwing them away with a hoarse yell. _I need to get away from those madmen_. She told herself but couldn't find the strength to get up from her crumpled position on the ground. Her tights from the orphanage were stained from the grass, and her hair sizzled around her head, her neat braid long gone. She hadn't had a burst of accidental magic in years and angry at her loss of control she punched the ground a few times before wiping the grime from her face. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

"Fuck!" She cursed, not caring how wrong it sounded from her small form. She wanted her parents. She wanted her mother to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. "Well guess what, they don't know you anymore Hermione!" She chuckled humourlessly, her voice sounding hollow even to herself. Would she even be born now? What if her presence in the past somehow changed her parent's future? What if they never had her now? _Maybe it's for the better. They could finally live a normal life, not having to worry about their freak daughter and magical wars_. She thought bitterly while trying to suppress another sob. She let herself fall back on the ground and stared up at the cloudy sky.

"What am I doing? I need to prevent those people from presenting Voldemort the world on a silver platter." She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to calm herself enough to think of a plan. "Screw it, I'll just have to try my best and hope that Gamp's Theory of multiple timelines turns out to be accurate." Remembering the numerous books she had read on that subject during her third year, Hermione contemplated the different outcomes of their presence in the past. No one had ever successfully performed a jump that far back, so there weren't any references she could fall back on.

Seeing that they were still very much alive and did not disintegrate the moment they had interacted with other people, Hermione figured that if one didn't exist in the first place in the current timeline, the possibility of causing a paradox was vanishingly slim. She still didn't know if she could trust Gamp's theories, but as of now it seemed that his were the only ones even remotely close to what she was experiencing and it calmed her considerably to assume that no matter what they did, it would not affect the timeline they originally came from, instead forming a new string, entirely disconnected from her original time.

 _Right, this will have to do for now. I can read up more about this theory later_. Ready to face her enemies, she got up again, attempting to look as put together as she possibly could with her stained clothes and tangled hair. _Maybe this is my chance to help everyone that didn't make it the first time around_. She imagined her parent's happy smiles in her mind and Ron's warm arms around her shoulders. She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. She could do this.

* * *

Sitting back in Rodolphus' study, the traces of her magical outburst long gone, Hermione listened to the older man's plans. "You'll get close to our Lord and make him see the benefits of ruling wizarding Britain from the comfortable position as our Minister. You'll report everything about him and his friends back to us while supporting his cause, do you understand?" Rodolphus sat on the sofa across from her, his one arm casually dangling from the side of the armrest whereas his brother watched her calmly from his place right next to Rodolphus.

"Why would he talk to me? I'm a muggle-born with no family ties to boast with." Hermione argued.

"I already took care of this little inconvenience and registered you as my illegitimate daughter from a fling back in France." Hermione choked on her own breath at his words, coughing she looked towards the two men across from her.

"Are you serious? Why would you do this without my consent, I'm proud of my heritage!" Her supposed father clicked his tongue condescendingly while uncrossing his legs before answering.

"First, you're a child again, no one gives a fuck about your consent." At Hermione's attempt to argue back he warningly raised his hand, effectively shutting her up. "Don't interrupt your elders, it's rude." Hermione scoffed at his words but let him continue. "Second, I don't care that you're proud of your filthy blood, Tom Riddle wouldn't even look twice at a Mudblood, so I had to improvise. Don't think for a second that I'm happy with letting a Mudblood carry my house's name." He hissed, and Hermione had to suppress a shudder at his apparent hatred for everything he didn't consider pure in his book.

Contemplating his crazy scheme for a moment, Hermione sighed in exhaustion, deciding to play along with their spiel for the time being. She was weary from the strain her accidental use of magic had put on her body, so she just nodded tiredly.

"I'm not comfortable with sharing a name with two mass-murderers either but to be honest, I see your reasoning. I'm tired. Do I get a room or am I sleeping with the house elves in some kitchen cupboard?"

The brothers had the decency to look appalled at her question, and it was Rabastan instead of his brother who answered her question. "Of course you'll have your own rooms. The elves prepared the west wing on the second floor for you." Hermione just scowled, annoyed that they seemed to have fully expected her cooperation. She wondered if she'd still gotten the nice rooms if she'd told them to fuck off.

* * *

Finally, alone in her admittedly impressive bedroom Hermione sat down on one of the two armchairs in front of her ridiculously large fireplace. It was nearly as high, as her adult self-was tall and Hermione could already see herself with a good book in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other, sitting in front of the crackling fire on a cold winter night.

"Does Missy need Winny to assist her in any way?" Cursing Hermione jumped from the chair and stared down at the little elf next to her. Clenching her rapidly beating heart Hermione pulled her messy curls from her face and smiled kindly at the elf.

"Merlin you scared me – Winny is it?" The little creature nodded. At least she seemed to wear a clean sheet.

"Yes! Winny is sorry for startling her, Missy. Please forgive Winny!" She wailed pitifully, and Hermione tried not to anger her new family on her first night by freeing all the elves in the house.

"Of course Winny. Don't worry. Would you be so kind and run me a bath while I go and search for something to wear?"

The little elf turned her big eyes to her new Mistress's face, pointing her bony fingers at a dark door beside her bed. "Winny will run the bath! Missy's dressing chamber is right through the door there." Hermione sceptically raised an eyebrow at the thought of the two men she was now staying with, buying her dresses.

"Master Rabastan told Winny to get attire for Master Rodolphus' daughter, so Winny brought everything the Master has ordered." Hermione dully nodded, making her way towards her supposed dressing chamber. When she opened the door, a sea of various shades of black assaulted her tired eyes.

"They can't be serious about this." Reluctantly stepping into the dimly lit room, she continued to combe through the endless amounts of fabric in search of something lighter than a dull grey. The only things not completely colourless in her wardrobe were her nightgowns and underwear. _What kind of person buys a child nothing but black robes? What went wrong in their childhood_? Dumbstruck she pulled out an especially gaudy piece, that looked like it went out of fashion when Victoria was crowned queen.

"Merlin, I'm fated to look forever dressed for the next funeral." Not able to deal with Rabastan's apparent lack of fashion sense, she grabbed one of the many nightgowns to her right and went to her bathroom at the opposite end of her bedroom. After she had dismissed the little elf, she tried to drown her worries in the bathtub for a few hours, before burying herself under her heavy comforters, instantly falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The following days she mostly hid in her room or the library, trying to avoid the two brothers as much as she could. Rodolphus had forced the three of them to eat their meals together, but other than that he had left Hermione alone. It was nearly the middle of September and Hermione had decided that for her birthday she would ask Rodolphus to let her visit Diagon Alley to get some books.

"Take Rabastan with you, I don't trust you." When she'd argued that she was a grown woman and didn't need a chaperone he had just whirled his wand in her general direction, forcing the irritated girl to dodge away under his nasty stinging hex. On the 19th she reluctantly asked Rabastan to accompany her to Diagon Alley, and together they used the tall Fireplace in the entrance hall to travel to their destination.

Nearly forgetting about the dark man walking next to her, Hermione took in the lively street in front of her. It looked almost identical to the one in her own time. Her eyes wandered over a group of laughing children running through the crowd, their colourful robes billowing behind them. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious Hermione looked down at her own black ones, aware of how pale they made her face look.

"Come on, I don't want to be here all day." Rabastan pushed her forward. Hermione grumpily made her way towards her favourite shop in the wizarding world, Flourish and Blotts. Her supposed uncle following her through the happily chatting crowd of wizards and witches, unaware of the number of glances that were thrown their way. "Maybe his wife died." Rabastan heard one witch quietly whisper to her friend, and without telling Hermione the reason he urged her to walk a little faster. He wasn't used to being around people that didn't know his face from the wanted posters anymore.

In the Bookshop, Hermione felt instantly calm, and with a content sigh she took off before Rabastan could stop her. Browsing through the Herbology section, she nearly bumped into another boy that was skipping quietly through a book about Mandrakes.

"Oh excuse me, I didn't see you there." The boy looked up to find a pale girl with wild curls standing very close to him. He instinctively took a step back, and Hermione smiled awkwardly. "Hermione G-Lestrange pleased to meet you." He looked at her outstretched hand, wondering why she was still talking to him.

"Antonin Dolohov." He murmured, and Hermione nearly pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. She looked at the future death eater across from her and tried not to let the boy notice her sudden discomfort.

"Well it was nice to meet you Dolohov, but I'm afraid my uncle is getting a little impatient." Before he could answer Hermione hastily turned around, trying to walk as fast away from him as it was socially acceptable. Dolohov watched her retreating back and wondered what kind of witch would wear such gloomy looking robes on a sunny day.

"Who was the boy you were talking to?" Rabastan asked when she'd finally reached him. Hermione grimaced at his question as they went to the register to pay for her books.

"Antonin Dolohov." She answered curtly, and Rabastan had to force himself not to whirl around and stare back at the little boy he knew would grow up to be one the Dark Lords most loyal subjects.

"Bloody Hell, who would've guessed." He grumbled under his breath, but Hermione just rolled her eyes, her excellent mood instantly ruined, as she remembered what was to come. She was certain Rabastan would tell his brother about the boy, the minute they arrived back home.

* * *

A few more weeks passed without any significant disturbance, and Hermione had grown tired of the oppressive feeling of the manor. Deciding to take a risk, she snuck out to visit a close by Muggle village. Not caring about Rodolphus' wrath if he found out that she had left without his knowledge, she wandered through the cobblestone streets of the idyllic village. It reminded her of the ones from the postcards her grandparents always used to send from one of their trips around the countryside. A nostalgic smile ghosted over Hermione's lips at the memory of her grandma's enthusiasm for everything inherently British.

"Excuse the strange question, but are you by any chance a witch?" Surprised Hermione turned around and looked at the young girl behind her. She must've been around her own age and wore her copper hair neatly pulled up into a simple bun.

"Come again?" She asked just to make sure, and the girl across from her nervously chewed on her thin lips.

"Your robes. I only ever saw my mother wearing those in her childhood pictures." The girl answered, and Hermione's brows shot up her forehead.

"Your mother's a witch? Are you as well?" To her surprise, the girl pulled her into a quieter alley and nodded.

"I am, mother says I'll get my Hogwarts letter soon." Hermione grinned, overjoyed to finally have found someone else to talk to.

"That's amazing! Hermione Lestrange, it's very nice to meet you." Slightly startled by Hermione's sudden enthusiasm the other girl eagerly shook her hand.

"Minerva McGonagall, it's so great to finally have another witch around my age in the neighbourhood." Hermione's grin faltered for a split-second before returning in full force. She couldn't believe it. Hermione had to restrain herself from throwing herself into the other girls' arms. Looping her arm around McGonagall's own, she quickly pulled her to the nearest Café.

She hadn't had a normal conversation in weeks and couldn't wait to get to know her younger professor. Finally, fate seems to mean well for once. Hermione ordered a piece of apple pie for herself and happily sipped on her Tea. "So Minerva, is it alright if I call you Minerva?" Hermione asked excitedly while the other girl just nodded, a little overwhelmed by Hermione's enthusiasm.

"If I can call you Hermione- "

"Of course you can!" Hermione interrupted her and Minerva raised a brow at the girls' brash behaviour.

"Well alright Hermione, do you live around here?" Hermione nodded while chewing on a piece of cake. She pointed towards the looming structure of the old manor that sat on top of a small hill at the outskirts of the village and Minerva looked surprised at her statement. "Wait, someone actually lives in this creepy house? My mother told me it belonged to a family of bad wizards until they moved away a few decades ago."

Hermione laughed and continued to grin into her teacup as she answered. "We just moved back from the continent, but don't worry, some of us are not that bad." Even though she tried to sound cheerful, Minerva picked up on the underlying resentment in Hermione's voice, wondering what the girl had meant with her words. "Anyways, enough about myself. Tell me something about you, where do you live?" The girls continued chatting about the most trivial things until it started to grow dark, the fading sunlight reminding Hermione that she had to return soon.

"I'm afraid I have to leave now, Rod-father might notice my absence if I'm late for dinner." Minerva bid the pale girl farewell, and the two made plans to meet each other again over the weekend.

Hermione waved one last time over her shoulder before hurrying back home, cursing herself for losing track of time. Just as she entered the house quietly through the kitchen, Winny appeared before her and announced that dinner had been served. Relieved to have made it back in time, Hermione tried to cool her flushed cheeks from the cold evening air outside and hurried to the dining room.

* * *

"You look flustered, are you feeling unwell?" Rabastan asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, and Hermione nearly choked on her dinner.

"I was exploring the gardens when Winny summoned me, it was quite a mile back." Seemingly satisfied with her answer the three continued their meal.

Just as Hermione went to get up from the table Rodolphus cleared his throat, she froze in her seat, anxious about what he could want from her. "You need to learn how to behave yourself around other purebloods. Starting from tomorrow Rabastan and I will teach you how to walk, talk and act like a proper pureblood witch." Hermione screwed up her face at his words. _As if those two would know anything about how to be a proper witch_.

"I think I know how to behave myself around other people, thank you very much." She snapped back and watched Rodolphus instantly lose his calm. She prepared herself for any hex he might throw at her and discreetly moved her chair a little further away from the table.

"I don't have the patience to listen to your incessant arguing, so I advise you to shut your little mouth if you know what's good for you." He said threateningly, gripping the sides of the table until his knuckles were devoid of any colour.

Hermione's inner Gryffindor encouraged her to defy him even further but she knew, she couldn't antagonise the man every day until he snapped. She wouldn't survive a week in this house if she did. So, Hermione gave in and apologised before storming out of the room, unbothered by Rodolphus' angry cursing. The bare minimum of compliance. That's what she was ready to offer, nothing more. _I will not let this man walk over me as if I'm nothing better than a doormat, I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm proud of my heritage_. Like a mantra, she told herself the same words every night before she went to bed.

* * *

When the weekend had finally arrived, Hermione put on the least daunting dress she could find in her closet of endless joy as she liked to call it and proceeded to sneak back into the village to meet Minerva again.

"Why are you always wearing black Hermione, is it like a pureblood thing? My mother told me the older families have some odd quirks."

Hermione dramatically put her Hand over her heart, pretending to be mortally offended by her new friends' words. "Minerva you hurt me, maybe it's just what I like to wear."

Her friend just rolled her eyes at Hermione's antics, taking a sip from her teacup before clicking her tongue. "Well, it makes you look sick. You should try some colours for a change."

She teased, and Hermione sighed. "Believe me I would if I could, but the one time I asked my uncle if I could buy some new dresses, he didn't understand what my problem was." Giggling the two girls continued to chat over their tea.

"How about your family Minerva? What do your parents do?" Hermione eventually asked, and Minerva nervously played with the handle of her cup.

"Well my dad is a Presbyterian minister, and my mum stays at home. He nearly had a heart attack when he found out mum's a witch." Hermione furrowed her brows. She was surprised that McGonagall had grown up in a non-magical household, amazed, that the strong woman from her memories had to hide her abilities in her youth, she'd always just assumed that her teacher had grown up in a magical family.

"And your father is ok with you being a witch?" Hermione asked genuinely interested in Minerva's answer and leaned forward in her chair.

"Well not at the beginning, but he quickly got used to it. My two brothers are magical as well so he just went with it one day."

Hermione didn't even know that McGonagall had any siblings, surprised by the affection in her voice as she continued to speak about her little brothers. She wondered what might've happened to them in the future. _Probably Voldemort. He's good at murdering entire families_. She thought bitterly but continued to listen to Minerva's hilarious childhood stories.

When it was time to return home, Hermione seriously contemplated to just ask her friend if she could stay with her family for a few days and pretend that life was okay. She watched Minerva skip home and suddenly felt very old in her young body, she most certainly had too many things to worry about for an eleven-year-old.

* * *

"Never speak up when not spoken to, nobody cares for the opinion of a little girl so try not to offend anyone with your loud mouth," Rodolphus told her for the umpteenth time, and Hermione had to resist hissing at the older wizard and his obnoxious lessons. She bit her tongue and gave him a curt nod to show him that she'd understood. "Good. Remember, you need to blend in with the other snobby brats in our Lords first circle." He told her with a stern voice, scanning her face for any signs of defiance. Hermione just returned his calculating gaze and huffed.

"You told me to get close to Riddle, why do I have to suck up to his followers as well?" She asked irritated while crossing her arms.

"Stop questioning me and just do as you're told. I know Gryffindors are daft about things like that, but I expected better from the smartest witch of her age." Hermione groaned at his obvious provocation. The man had less patience than a child.

"I'm proud of my house and will not let the hat put me anywhere else." Her sorting was a touchy subject with Rodolphus, he clearly wanted her in Slytherin, whereas Hermione wouldn't accept anything but Gryffindor. When Rabastan had tried to compromise once and suggested Hermione getting sorted into Ravenclaw, the girl had stormed off the table.

"Not this again, you'll tell the hat to put you in Slytherin, end of discussion," Rodolphus said with a finality that did not leave room for arguing.

"Forget it, I'm already doing everything else you told me to do. I won't let you take the last place I feel safe at away from me as well."  
She spoke, determined to stand her ground. Rodolphus' eyes turned into slits as he watched the girl, not a single trace of fear in her amber eyes.

"Don't try me, girl. I'm not in the mood for arguments." His admittedly handsome face scrunched up in discontent at her continuous defiance.

 _I'm a Gryffindor and no amount of threats can convince me otherwise_. "No, you can't force me. I'll most certainly not leave Minerva for those slimy snakes!" She pushed herself up, her chair falling back at her forceful move. Seething she stalked towards the doors, determined to stand her ground. Just as she was about to reach the doors, they closed with a loud bang, making Hermione jump at the sudden sound. She turned around to demand an explanation when Rodolphus' eerily calm voice made the blood in her veins run cold.

"Minerva?" He asked, and she knew, she'd messed up. Desperately trying to think of an excuse, Hermione inched as far back away from the angry man as she could. Before she could defend herself, Hermione was hit with the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus and she instantly fell to her knees, crying out as everything in her body suddenly felt as if it was on fire. "I knew it. You were far too quiet for the past weeks." He lifted the curse and left Hermione gasping for air for a few seconds before casting it again, watching her scream in pain.

"Who are you seeing, where do you meet them?!" He yelled over her cries before pausing again, waiting for the sobbing girl to find her voice. When she took too long, he strode over to where she was lying and pulled Hermione up by her tangled hair. Hermione cried out, her small body no longer used to the after-effects of the Cruciatus. Rodolphus hissed at her to answer his question and not able to take another round of the curse Hermione gave in.

"I met her in the village. We didn't do anything I swear, we just talked!" Her body still shook when Rodolphus let go of her hair again and furiously whirled around to look at her.

"Who? Who did you talk with?" He asked through gritted teeth as Hermione tried to get her mouth to function properly again.

"Minerva McGonagall for Merlin's Sake! She will go to Hogwarts next year as well!" She finally managed to say, before her voice broke, still raw from her previous screams.

"The fucking teacher from Hogwarts? She's that old?" Rodolphus seemingly having forgotten about the crying girl on the floor furrowed his brows deep in thought. "Wasn't she a filthy Halfblood?" He asked, and Hermione pulled herself together, ready to defend her role model.

"She was a war hero who killed dozens of Voldemorts men." The slap echoed through the silent room and Hermione could already feel her cheek tingling where his hand had connected with her face. Defiantly looking up at the crazed man, she was more than ready to defend her teacher.

"We don't associate ourselves with filthy blood traitors. Go to your room before I change my mind and just kill you." He sounded as if it took him every ounce of his patience to not just snap at her again.  
 _  
He clearly has left half his sane mind back in Azkaban_. Hermione pulled herself up from the floor, determined to leave before he could change his mind, but her stupid Gryffindor brain forced her to speak the words she knew she'd regret the instant they left her lips.

"Your ancestors must be so proud of you then, raising a Muggle-born as your own daughter." She jeered, positive that he would end her life right on the spot she was standing when she saw his eyes glaze over in anger. _Stupid. He's completely lost it_. She watched Rodolphus stalk over to where she was seemingly rooted to the spot, bracing herself for his anger.

"Why won't you just shut the fuck up?" He grabbed her chin, leaning down just a few centimetres from her face.

"I despise you more than anything in the world." Hermione spat back at him, feeling his fingers digging harder into her cheeks.

Her body was exhausted, but her mind was on fire. She was done with this farce of a life. It had been over, the moment that man in front of her had killed her with his wand. Whatever their return to this time meant, she just didn't care anymore. She just wanted to move on and be with Ron again.

But Rodolphus had other plans, and she watched in horror, as his eyes cleared up again and found hers. A sane Lestrange was probably even more dangerous than their deranged counterparts. Hermione knew that the man was anything but stupid. Whatever suddenly made him look at her with those cold eyes, she knew it was probably worse than death. "Well, well. Do you think I don't know what you are trying to do?" He caressed her cheek with his thumb still not letting go of her face, and Hermione shuddered at the foreign touch.

"I'll not give you the peace you so desperately wish for. Oh no, you'll stay here with us until we're done." She felt him grab one of her hands, finally letting go of her bruised face. Before she could stop him, he had turned over her hand and cut her palm with a muttered slicing hex. She yelped at the sudden pain and tried to pull away, but he held her arm tightly, continuing to cut his own hand as well. Before she could take a step back, he grabbed her again and put his bloody hand in hers.

Horrified Hermione felt a burning sensation where their blood mixed and listened as Rodolphus chanted a string of ancient verses, hissing when their hands began to glow. Fiercely shaking her head, Hermione tried to escape his vice grip before he could finish what she suspected to be an ancient and very illegal blood ritual.

"Sanguis sanguinem meum, Os et os. Make this child of my house and name." He whispered feverishly, confirming Hermione's worst fears. She felt her magical core expanding, feeding of Rodolphus' own before suddenly snapping back into herself, nearly knocking the girl off her feet. The world was spinning around her and she felt his magic burn through her system, purging it of the remainders of her own magical trace. It felt like liquid fire was coursing through her stomach, burning her from the inside out. Everything hurt and Hermione curled into herself in an attempt to lessen the searing pain in her midsection.

* * *

Rodolphus breathlessly watched Hermione holding her still bleeding hand to her chest, growing restless when nothing happened for a few seconds. Then suddenly the girl went to grip her stomach. He watched with sick fascination as her brown curls turned a few shades darker and her already pale skin changed to the shade he knew he and his brother had inherited from their mother.

"What have you done?" She asked hoarsely, and Rodolphus knew that he finally had her where he wanted. Broken at his feet. A manic laugh escaped his lips as he watched the girl trying to collect herself.

"There is not a single drop of filth left in your body, girl. You're truly a Lestrange now."

Her strangled sobs filled the room. He enjoyed the feeling of absolute power coursing through his veins. Potter's Mudblood, the golden girl was no more. No matter how much she would fight it, she was his now. She would realise soon enough what it meant to be a Lestrange. The ways of their society were against her, no one would come to her aid. Questioning the ways how a house raised its children was frowned upon. Any of her claims that they were not her real family wouldn't hold up in court with her now sharing his blood.

* * *

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick, she escaped from the hall back to her room, her dress stained with the blood from the cut in her throbbing hand. _He's lying. There is no such spell_. She desperately tried to tell herself. After finally reaching her bathroom Hermione immediately fell to her knees, heaving over her toilet. At the thought of the man's blood in her body, she threw up.

"Is Missy alright? Should Winny bring Missy something for her wound?" When Hermione heard the high-pitched voice of her elf, she was overcome with the strong urge to smash something, and she angrily turned to the creature at her door.

"Fuck off Winny!" Throwing a roll of toilet paper at the shocked elf, the poor thing broke out in tears and apparated away. Hermione shut her eyes and tried not to think about the little elf while she flushed the toilet and attempted to get up. For once grateful to live in a magical house she commanded her bedroom doors to close and not let anybody else into her room. Struggling to get out of her sullied dress she drew herself a hot bath, still feeling sick to her stomach.

* * *

Downstairs, Rabastan found his brother sitting completely still at his desk not even blinking when he stormed into the room. "What have you done brother?" He had felt the blood magic coursing through his body and knew something terrible had happened during his absence. He watched his brothers' face contorted into what he must've thought to be a smile and looked at his younger brother.

"Well, I broke her spirit once and for all Rab. I don't think she'll be making any more problem." Rabastan wasn't so sure about that but chose not to express his thoughts on this topic.

"By turning her into your fucking daughter, really Rodolphus? Was that truly necessary?" He asked exasperated, but his brother just laughed.

"She kept gloating about her oh-so-great heritage. I just couldn't hear it anymore." He abruptly stood up from his table, not even bothered by his still bleeding hand or ruined robes. Rabastan felt like shaking his brother until he understood that what he'd done may have been the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Rabastan knew that his brother had been affected more than himself by his thirteen years in Azkaban, but the younger brother had hoped that the man would regain at least some of his senses after their breakout.

"What if she decides she can't take anymore brother. What then? We still need her."

Rodolphus shrugged and poured himself a drink at his small bar on the other side of his study. Offering his brother the same, Rabastan just shook his head. "She won't. Her bleeding Gryffindor heart would never allow her to do such a thing." Throwing his head back as he downed his entire drink in one go Rodolphus dropped the empty glass on his desk and walked around his brother out of the room. "Trust me, Rab, I did the right thing. I know you think I've lost it back in that horrible prison, but I'm still not an idiot."

Rabastan watched the retreating form of his brother for a while longer before rolling his eyes and pouring himself some whiskey after all as well.

* * *

Back in her own rooms, Hermione had finally calmed down enough to feel like she could face her reflection in the mirror on the wall right next to the bathtub she was still soaking in. She pulled herself up and turned around to face whatever the consequences of that archaic spell were. A young girl with deep rings under her eyes looked back at her, her hair was darker than Hermione's own and her skin several shades lighter than hers had ever been but other than that she still looked like herself. Hermione felt relief wash over her, visibly relaxing in front of the tall mirror. Whatever Rodolphus had done to her, it didn't change who she really was, and Hermione felt like a big weight had been lifted from her shoulders. _I'm going to be okay_.

While she had been wallowing in self-pity in her bathroom, the sky had turned dark outside her windows. A quick glance at the small clock on her bedside table told her that dinner would be served soon. She pulled herself together and threw one of the ugliest dresses she could find in her wardrobe over her head, not caring about her crazy curls or dark circles. She stomped out of her room, down to the dining hall, ready to show Rodolphus that he wouldn't ever be able to control her. At her entrance, both brothers looked up, surprise written over their equally pale faces. Rabastan was taken aback by Hermione's appearance and her uncanny resemblance to his brothers' late wife before he hurriedly caught himself and nodded at the young witch. Hermione ignored him, instead glaring at Rodolphus.

"Your barbaric ritual means nothing to me." One could cut the tension in the room with a knife as Rodolphus watched his new daughter thanking one of the house elves with a grim look on his face. She looked like a ghost in that dreadful black dress. No, he corrected himself. She looked like his awful wife. He would've laughed at the thought if he hadn't despised that witch so much.

"Finish your dinner and then go to your room, you'll not leave it until I tell you so, understood?" He decided to play along with her charade and watched the girl stabbing her food a little harder than it was necessary.

"As you wish." She smiled bitterly at him and imagined the man suddenly combusting into flames. Never in her life had she loathed a person as much as Rodolphus and she counted the days until they would have to get her a new wand. She'd finally be able to defend herself from his hexes or even better throw his own curses back at the man…

* * *

 **This is my attempt to imagine a more "darker" picture of Hermione's life in the past...This is not a TomxHermione find love and live happily ever after kind of story! Even though I love those, I chose to focus more on Hermione's growth over the years and her achievements. Tom Riddle will still be a sociopath, and the Lestranges will still be…unhinged. So, consider this a warning for Violence, Swearing, PTSD, etc. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters and make no profit from this story, except for maybe some nice reviews. This is a HermionexMulti ff, meaning that she will have different romantic interests over the years but not, e.g. two at the same time :)**


	2. Hogwarts

**February 1938**

"It's finally here!" The young girl running through the empty halls of the manor cheered, not bothered by the scowling faces of the portraits hanging on the walls as she rushed past them.

Hermione hadn't been this excited in what felt like forever, and she made sure that everybody in the house knew. The owl had been perched on her windowsill when she had woken up this morning. As soon as she'd gotten her large windows to open, it had dropped the letter it was holding at her feet. Before Winny even had the chance to stop her young Mistress from running around the cold corridors of the old house only wearing her flimsy nightgown, Hermione had already stormed past the confused elf on a mission to apparently even wake the dead with her cries of excitement.

"You'll finally have to get me a new wand Rodolphus!" Hermione exclaimed the moment she entered the man's personal sitting room, not surprised to see him already awake and dressed for the day.

At her entrance, he looked up from the book he was reading. Hermione was aware of how much the man sitting a few feet away, loathed to be interrupted in his own personal space, Rabastan having once told her after a few too many drinks, how it had something to do with him not having any place to retreat to during their time in Azkaban.

"I told you not to come to this part of the manor a hundred times." He regarded her with a nasty glary.

Hermione meanwhile paid no mind to his remark, practically shoving her letter into his face. "Give me money to get all the things I need for school. I also want to get some more books before I leave." She demanded, knowing that her supposed father would rather just give her the keys to their Gringotts Vaults before having to accompany Hermione to Diagon Alley.

She saw him purse his lips at her apparent lack of respect, but she would be damned to be anything but barely civil in his presence. She hated the man with a passion she had only ever felt for that shallow Reporter back in her fourth year that made her love life into a public spectacle, but then - Skeeta didn't even come close to the burning rage she felt every time that man opened his mouth.

"One would think that after nearly six months you'd have grown out of your rebellious phase." He murmured but reaching into his pocket for their vault key nonetheless.

Hermione scowled at the man and snatched the key from his outstretched hand. "I'll lose the attitude the moment you're six feet under." She answered while simultaneously turning around, walking out of Rodolphus' room, satisfied with the man's irritated huff after her retreating form.

Over the past months, Hermione had become quite adept at pushing the man's buttons without getting hexed into the next century. She'd even go so far as calling it a hobby since she only had so many other things to do in the dark house. After the incident, a few weeks before Christmas, she wasn't allowed to leave the house without Winny shadowing her every move. And even with the elf constantly hovering over her shoulders, Rodolphus had forbidden her from leaving the Lestrange Estate altogether.

So, the only other things she could do, other than talking to the two death eaters at dinner, of course, were reading or exploring the gardens, the latter quickly becoming one of Hermione's favourite past time activities. As someone who'd grown up in a busy London suburb, Hermione had only ever seen pictures of the highlands on the telly or some travel magazine her parents had bought at some point.

With the manor being situated right between the seemingly endless rolling emerald hills, Hermione, for the first time, had experienced true solitude. No snatchers lurking around every corner to worry about or finding a suitable place to build their tent as she had to during her year on the run with Harry and Ron.

Once the first snow had covered everything under a heavy layer of sparkling white Hermione had spent hours, simply strolling through the delicately arranged areas of the estate, her favourite place being a small garden hidden behind tall evergreen hedges. Just as the manor itself, the grounds had that magical feeling to them, that only existed in places which had been around for centuries. Areas that had been inhabited by countless generations of wizards and witches.

"Does Mistress need Winny to assist her with dressing the Miss?" Distracted from her inner musings, Hermione looked down at her personal elf and shook her head. She would never get used to being waited upon every second of the day.

"Thanks but I'll be alright. Meet me in ten minutes in Diagon Alley." She began to put everything she needed her trip into her little handbag, humming excitedly.

She nearly skipped down the stairs to the fireplace in the Entrance Hall, positively giddy to finally get another wand.

"Winny has informed me that she will be accompanying you on your trip. I expect you to behave yourself accordingly, do you understand?" The deep voice of her supposed father stopped Hermione before she could jump into the green flames that had erupted from the floo powder she'd thrown into the fireplace.

Rolling her eyes, she turned around to look at the man. "It's the first time in months that I'm allowed to leave this dreary place. I for sure won't mess this up." She looked him straight in the eyes. After a few seconds, the man nodded seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing and left without another word. Both knew that Winny would report everything Hermione did, back to Rodolphus.

"Diagon Alley!" She spoke clearly and vanished into the green flames...

* * *

"Pear with a dragon heartstring, quite an interesting choice, Miss Lestrange." A disturbingly young Ollivander spoke while watching Hermione swing her new wand with a big smile plastered on her face.

The girl in question looked up from the golden-toned wood and curiously raised one brow. "Really? How so?" She asked, intrigued, still toying with her new wand.

"Well, the wand itself is quite powerful-" He paused, looking at the girl in front of him with an excited gleam in his eyes, Hermione most certainly did not like that look. "For someone from such an… old family, to be chosen by a wand of this kind. Well, I quite simply don't know of a single instance where a pear wand has been discovered in the possession of a Dark witch or wizard." He carefully watched the girl's reaction to his words.

Hermione beamed at his explanation, and he knew then and there, that this girl would go far in life. The only other person he had met in the past years, that gave him that particular feeling had been young Druella Black when she and her mother had picked up her wand a few years before Hermione had set foot into his shop.

"You can't believe how happy this fact makes me Mr Ollivander, thank you," Hermione paid for her new wand before leaving the store after regarding the young wandmaker with another smile.

Satisfied with her new purchase, she pulled out her list of things she needed school, quickly reading over the remaining items on the parchment. She decided to pick up her Uniform next, given that Ollivander's Shop was situated right across from Madam Malkin's.

Winny who had been waiting in front of the wandmaker silently followed Hermione, already carrying a few boxes from Amanuensis Quills and Flourish & Blotts, insisting that she didn't need any help with them.

"Good Day, I'd like to purchase my School uniform," Hermione told the petite woman behind the counter of the shop.

The woman's eyes wandered over Hermione's unruly hair and black robes first, before taking notice of the small elf behind her. She immediately straightened herself up and hurried around the counter, eager to show Hermione her most expensive sets of Uniforms, quite adept at spotting a pureblood with no spending limit in her store.

Much to Hermione's dismay, she practically dragged the girl to the nearest fitting area and proceeded to take her measurements while explaining the numerous charms embedded in the school robes.

"These robes, for example, all come with basic heating and cooling charms, to keep you warm during the winter- and refreshed during the summer months. The anti-wrinkle enchantments ensure that your blouse will never sit anything but perfect." Hermione tried to look interested in the woman's ramblings, feeling like she was losing an IQ point, every time the woman listed another reason why a young witch should only wear the most pristine robes.

"Thank you Miss Malkins, I will gladly take three pairs of the robes you just suggested." She hoped that amount was enough to make the woman stop talking and indeed she closed her mouth and rushed to pack up the items Hermione picked.

Grateful the girl pulled out her heavy coin bag, enjoying the thought of Rodolphus' face once he saw how much she had gotten from Gringotts.

Paying for everything, Hermione waited for Winny to pick up her new bags before leaving the store. Right as she was about to open the door, it swung open, and she found herself face to face with a boy who, judging by his pale blond hair, could only be one of Draco's ancestors.

Blue eyes locked with her amber ones. "Terribly sorry, I didn't see you there." He said, stepping back a little, to let Hermione pass through.

Behind him stood a man that looked like a taller and broader version of Lucius Malfoy and Hermione had to force herself not to stare at the two strangers.

"It's alright, I should've been more aware of my surroundings." She eventually managed to say and was about to walk away when the voice of the older man stopped her.

"Are you here all by yourself? Where are your parents." He asked nonchalantly, but Hermione picked up his judgemental undertone. She forced a sheepish smile on her face, suddenly reminded of a certain policeman who had asked her the same question a few months ago.

"My father is a very busy man, so I went with my house-elf instead." Hermione tried to take full advantage of her disarming young face, knowing that most adults fell for the innocent smile of a little girl quite easily. Especially other fathers…Well except her own, but Rodolphus didn't really count, seeing as he was an insane war criminal. And as she had expected, the man's eyes softened a little at her small voice.

"I see, who is your father? I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting him, my name is Septimus Malfoy, and this is my son Abraxas." _I knew it, the Malfoy hair can only be hereditary_. Hermione thought and curtsied following his introduction, just as the Lestrange brothers had taught her. Mister Malfoy seemed quite pleased with her while his son just nodded in acknowledgement.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, we just moved back from the continent and don't know that many other people yet." She paused to push back some of the curls that had escaped from her hairband over the day, aware that she must've looked…eccentric judging by the younger Malfoy's stolen glances at her hair.

"Hermione Lestrange, I live with my father, Rodolphus and uncle Rabastan in our old family home in Scotland." She finished and watched Mr. Malfoy's eyes light up at the mention of her last name.

"Lestrange? That's a name I haven't heard in a while. Will you be attending Hogwarts this year?" Hermione nodded. "Wonderful, my son will leave for his first year as well. I'm sure he'll gladly accompany you during the train ride." At his words, the older Malfoy expectantly glanced down at his son who in turn looked annoyed for a second before schooling his features.

"Of course, father. Can't leave Miss Lestrange all by herself on her first day, can I now?" To Hermione's astonishment, he smiled cheekily at her while crossing his arms. "I'll introduce you to my friends, they're all nice blokes. Except for Antonin, he's quite boring."

Hermione smiled a little at his last words and looked at the boy. "I met him a few months ago, he seemed nice."

Abraxas looked surprised at her statement before laughing. "He was probably just scared because a girl talked to him."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his childish antics, suddenly reminded, of how young they truly were.

Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat, still looking as aloof as his future grandson. "As pleasant as this conversation might be, we still have things to do-" Hermione, fully expecting the older Malfoy to excuse himself and his son, was surprised when he held out his hand beckoning Hermione to take it. "…I don't feel comfortable with letting a respectable young girl wandering around by herself, house-elf or not. Back on the continent, this might be acceptable, but here we still uphold certain standards." He grimaced at the mention of her supposed old home and Hermione had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from snapping back at the man.

Rodolphus would skin her alive if she upset one of Voldemort's future followers before she even started school. "If you insist Mr. Malfoy, I only need a few more things then I'm all set for school." She grabbed his hand, feeling more than a little awkward about holding hands with Draco's great-grandfather or whatever. She looked over to Abraxas, trying not to think about the weirdness of her current situation too much…

* * *

"You never mentioned your mother, Lestrange, is she not staying with you?" At the young boy's innocent question, Hermione stiffened.

"I don't know. To be honest, father doesn't talk much about her. My Uncle mentioned that she left me with them right after she had me." Hermione tried to sound as clueless and innocent as possible as if she didn't understand where her mother was.

She felt Mr Malfoy's hand tighten around hers and wondered what the man was thinking at this moment. The possibility that he was maybe helping a half-blood? Hermione kind of wished that was the case, just to watch him choke on his own prejudices.

"Merlin that's terrible, I'm sorry. I can't imagine life without my mother." Abraxas told her with a severe expression, his blue eyes full of pity.

"Abraxas! You know better than to speak like that." His father lectured, and his son quickly looked down with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry Lestrange, I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's alright, father didn't like mother that much anyway, he gets very angry when we talk about her," Hermione answered seemingly absentmindedly as if she didn't just hint, that her father could get quite upset with his daughter.

 _Maybe that makes them stop asking questions. No one like to get involved in personal matters like that_. They walked into one of the two apothecaries in Diagon Alley to purchase everything for their potions lessons and while Mister Malfoy had been quiet during their stay in the shop, he did invite the two children for tea right after they exited the store and after they had sat down he continued his interrogation much to Hermione's dismay.

"So, Miss Lestrange tell me, was your mother married to your father?"

Hermione sipped on her tea before answering. "No. Uncle said they were still too young back then." _Let him think we're the product of a short fling. An accident that she did not need in her life_. Mr Malfoy seemed taken aback by Hermione's answer, his eyebrows nearly disappearing under his hairline.

"So they were still in school when she had you, I guess. Merlin things are surely different on the continent. Here they would've been told by their parents to get married." Hermione looked at the man with big eyes as if he'd just said the most unbelievable thing and leaned a little forward in her chair, not paying attention to the gaping younger Malfoy.

"My father always said, the only good things he got out of this were a pureblood heir and the freedom to never have to bother with another witch again." At her words, Mr. Malfoy looked positively scandalised.

Hermione had to suppress the quiet snicker that was threatening to spill from her lips. _Rodolphus might've told me to befriend Voldemort and his followers, but that doesn't mean that I can't still have a little fun with them_. Hermione watched quite satisfied, how Malfoy Sr. seemed to question his decision to associate himself with her family...

* * *

Septimus Malfoy subtly glanced over to his son who thankfully didn't seem to have fully understood Hermione's words, before his gaze wandered back to the pale girl quietly sitting across from him in that hideous black dress of hers. It was apparent to him now that she'd grown up in a household without another witch. No respectable pureblood mother would've let her daughter walk around looking like Hermione did. Deciding to help the young witch a little before she could become the target of the other girls in her year, he invited her to meet his wife.

"I think she would be thrilled to meet you, Miss Lestrange. She knows a lot about how a pure-blooded witch your age should present herself." To his surprise, Hermione only chuckled at his offer.

"I'm grateful, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm good." He tutted at her answer, not used to a girl speaking her mind so freely. He was confident that this was the result of her father's incapability and not because the girl had an unfortunate personality.

He decided that it was not proper to judge the man, knowing how hard it was to raise a child, especially under young Mr. Lestrange's circumstances.

"Miss Lestrange I meant no offence, your father quite obviously doesn't know how to ensure his daughter will end up with a favourable match after Hogwarts." He tried to explain, not expecting the girl to actually roll her eyes at him. Definitely too much spirit.

"I don't plan on marrying ever. My uncle is young enough to start a family of his own and continue the family name." Speechless Mr. Malfoy tried to wrap his head around the things the little girl had just said, not quite sure if he was imagining things.

"But girls aren't supposed to work. Mother says a witch that has to earn her own money is married to the wrong wizard." Abraxas Malfoy chimed in, confused by the girl's words.

* * *

Hermione's head snapped back to where the younger Malfoy was sitting. _Is this kid serious right now_? She had to forcefully remind herself that she was an eleven-year-old girl. She wasn't supposed to argue back, especially not with people like Malfoy Sr. who would for sure investigate her family's story if she stood out too much. _Get your act together Mione, these are the 30s, I have to gain their respect first before they're even going to think about listing to my opinion_.

"I hope I didn't offend you with my words, Mr. Malfoy. I tend to speak first before thinking." Hermione tried her best to look apologetic, praying that the older Malfoy would just think her to be some spoiled pureblood heiress, that wasn't used to hearing No.

He wrinkled his nose at her display before quickly schooling his features. "No offence taken. I'd quite like meeting your father one day, child." Grinding her teeth, she gave him a strained smile and quickly finished her tea so that she could leave before she lost to her inner voice yelling at her to just throw her cup at the older Malfoy for belittling her. _I'm nearly twenty for Merlin's sake, what am I doing here_?

"He'd be delighted. Thanks for inviting me for tea Mr. Malfoy, it was nice getting to know another student before school." She pushed her chair back and curtsied before grabbing her little purse and signing to Winny that they were leaving.

"The pleasure was ours, Miss Lestrange, I will send an owl soon. Maybe you and Abraxas can meet up again some time."

His son just nodded. "Definitely, you're way more entertaining than Walburga and Druella," Abraxas called after her.

Hermione turned around, waving at the boy. He seemed nice, given the fact that he'd become one of Voldemort's most trusted followers in the future. _He's eleven, he wasn't born evil_. The traitorous voice in her head whispered as the blond boy waved back, and Hermione's heart suddenly felt heavy in her chest. It was so easy to forget what would happen in the future when all she saw here, were young children who somehow ended up on the wrong side of the war.

* * *

 **April 1938**

"I will kill that little witch when I get my hands on her!" Yelled a furious Rodolphus while simultaneously trying to get rid of the boils that were covering his face.

Rabastan attempted to calm the seething man after another dinner had ended in chaos when Hermione and the older Lestrange had begun throwing curses at each other over the dining table after another argument over her opinion on house-elves had broken out.

"Since she got that cursed wand, she thinks she can get away with everything!" Rodolphus hissed as his brother tried another counter charm to Hermione's admittedly impressive spellwork.

"It's easy to forget that she was the brains behind all of Potters plans when you look at her now," Rabastan said to his brother who just scowled.

"She just got lucky today. One second more and I would've cursed her 'till she could've joined the Longbottom's at St. Mungo's." Rabastan just rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatic antics. Finding it quite amusing that if his brother ever would have had an actual daughter, she probably would've ended up just like Hermione.

They had quite a lot in common if you looked past the obvious differences. Both were ridiculously loyal to the people they decided to follow be it the Dark Lord or Potter for that matter and wickedly fast with their wands. Not to mention that despite her insufferable righteousness, Hermione could be quite vicious herself. Just one look at the painful boils on his brother's face was enough to let everyone know that she, despite her appearance, was still a witch to be reckoned with.

"I don't think I can help you much with those Brother, I'll tell Winny to fetch a doctor." Rabastan finally said and watched silently as his brother destroyed the rest of the furniture in the dining room.

"Screw the doctor! Get a fucking curse-breaker. He'd certainly be more helpful." Rodolphus snapped back and growled when he felt another boil grow on his neck...

Hermione listened to the man cursing her name from the safety of her own room and snickered at his predicament. _He deserves way more than a few boils_. With her new wand still tightly clasped in her hand, she silently opened her door and sneaked as quietly as she could towards the end of the stairs, gleefully watching her livid father being escorted to the fireplace by his brother.

"When we're back I'll kill her for sure Rab." Merely nodding at his brother's furious words, the younger Lestrange steered him towards the direction of the fireplace.

"Do what you must but first let's get you, someone, to help you with this." Rabastan threw some Floo powder into the fire and Hermione watched them both disappear in the green flames. Yes, today really had been a great day...

* * *

 **June 1938**

Summer had finally arrived. Hermione found herself enchanted with the gardens of the manor house once again. The myriad of beautiful colours stood in stark contrast to the dark house she had to live in. One warm evening, she found herself enjoying some snacks in one of the many old pavilions build around the property.

"I can't believe I've been here for what…ten months or something already." Hermione told her house-elf, who quietly stood beside her, ignoring Hermione's countless attempts to make her sit with her at the table.

"Winny is happy that Mistress is here, Winny never had such a nice Mistress before." Hermione smiled at the elves words and grabbed another small sandwich from the tray on the table next to her.

"Can't you just call me Hermione already Winny? It still makes me uncomfortable to be called Mistress."

"Winny cannot possibly do that Mistress Lestrange." Hermione cringed at the mention of her new name.

"How about just Miss then? Would that work for you?" She asked after a while, and Winny seemed to think it over for a second before nodding.

"Winny can do that Miss Lestrange." Hermione smiled tightly and tried to take it a little further.

"And how about Miss Hermione? I feel like you know me well enough to call me by my first name, Winny." She beamed at the uncomfortable looking elf, trying to win the little creature over.

"Winny doesn't know if that's a good idea, Missy Lestrange." The elf nervously played with the hem of her dirty uniform, but Hermione was determined to get the elf to listen to her.

She pouted with pretend hurt flashing through her eyes and gleefully watched the elve's resolve crumble. "Don't cry, Miss Hermione! Winny is sorry, Winny will call Miss Lestrange Miss Hermione from now!"

Hermione happily dropped her act and smiled at the little elf. "Thanks, Winny! This makes me really happy." The little elf looked proud of herself for pleasing her, Miss and Hermione returned to devouring the delicious snacks on her plate.

Later that day, Hermione found herself in Rodolphus study again. Knowing that nothing good ever happened in that room, Hermione braced herself for another argument, her wand ready to be drawn from under her sleeves.

"You will attend Hogwarts in less than two months. I just got a letter from Septimus who asked on Abraxas' behalf if you'd like to meet up with the boy this weekend."

Taken aback by his words, Hermione struggled to find an appropriate answer for a few seconds. "I'd rather not?" She eventually replied in a voice that sounded more like a question, and she could see her father's right eye beginning to twitch.

"I didn't actually ask you, Hermione. You'll, of course, meet up with the boy." Shuddering at his use of her actual name, Hermione frowned. I _don't want to hang out with Draco's grandfather for Merlin's sake_.

"I agreed to associate with those people at Hogwarts, why do I also have to deal with them outside of school?" She spoke irritated, but Rodolphus just rolled his eyes at the girl.

"Because I say so. I got Septimus to overlook your ridiculous behaviour from last time for now and believe me that wasn't easy for me as well." He said while pouring himself another glass of whiskey. Something he liked to do a little too often, Hermione thought.

Annoyed, she crossed her arms and sat a little straighter in her chair. "I already apologised for that ages ago. You can't imagine how awful it feels to know that you aren't worth shit to them just because you're a woman." She spat back at him, slowly getting angry at the man.

"Boohoo, finally not a Mudblood anymore but still not treated equally. Life must be so hard for you." He taunted over the rim of his glass, watching Hermione's hair getting frizzier by the second.

"It really is, not that you would understand with you coming from old money and being a man on top of that." She answered bitterly, knowing that she would always have to work at least twice as hard to be recognised by her male peers in this era.

Grinning at Hermione's words, Rodolphus leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Well look at it this way, at least now you'll have a good name and the money to back you up as well. This alone will open doors; you didn't even know existed before."

Hermione just scowled at his answer and shook her head. "I'd gladly trade all of this in for being allowed to be myself again."

"Oh, I believe that. But sadly, this is not an option anymore, so stop complaining and put on your happy face when Abraxas and his father are here." Hermione abruptly looked up at the man.

"They're coming to our house?" Rodolphus nodded. Hermione chewed on her lips, gobsmacked that he would actually invite people over.

"Stop looking so surprised, we can't avoid social gatherings forever if we want to establish ourselves in society." He drawled while folding his legs, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.

Hermione was, for a better word, shocked. She had grown so accustomed to being alone in the past months that the thought of someone actually stepping foot into her room or strolling through her gardens made her feel anxious.

"I really don't feel comfortable with visitors just yet." She spoke quietly, hoping that Rodolphus would change his mind if she just looked pitiful enough. _Not that this bastard actually cares, but it's worth a try_.

"Do you really think that I care how you feel about this?" He questioned incredulously.

Against her will, Hermione felt her vision getting blurry from the hot tears forming in her eyes. Rodolphus noticing her quivering lips sneered and slammed one hand loudly on his desk. The sudden noise made Hermione jump, and she sniffled angrily at the man sitting in front of her. It's not as if she wanted him to see her cry.

"Don't you dare to start crying now, I don't care if you don't want to see the Malfoy boy. You'll behave like the perfect little pureblood witch that you are now and have fun with Abraxas." He finally said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Hermione gulped, knowing that a seemingly collected Rodolphus was by far the most dangerous one and that he would start cursing her again if she continued to defy him. While one part of her desperately wanted to continue to rebel against the man, another much larger part of herself wanted to try to change the future to a better one, so she scrambled to collect herself and angrily wiped her wet eyes with her sleeves. "Of course, I look forward to seeing Abraxas again."

Rodolphus looked at her like a cat that just caught the canary. "Good, you can leave now." He turned back to his paperwork concerning Merlin knows what suspicious deals he was working on to expand their influence in the ministry.

Hermione didn't waste another second, bolting out of her chair and practically ran from his study. She hated feeling so utterly powerless. _Next time I won't just leave it at boils_...

* * *

"Lestrange wait up! This isn't a race for Merlin's Sake!" A red-faced Abraxas called after Hermione, who hurriedly walked a few meters in front of the panting boy.

"We're nearly there Malfoy, keep up." She continued her mad dash towards the gardens.

Since he and his father had arrived nearly an hour ago, Hermione had felt like hiding somewhere dark and quiet but Rodolphus, of course, wouldn't have that. So, as soon as it was socially acceptable, she'd excused herself from the conversation in the sitting room, offering Abraxas to show him around the gardens, maybe hoping to accidentally lose him somewhere on the way.

Once the boy caught up with her, Hermione realised that her fantastic plan had failed. "Those gardens are amazing Lestrange. Even we don't have that much parkland back home." He said breathlessly, taking in the many flowers and trees as well as the many hidden paths leading to the other parts of the garden.

Against her better judgement, Hermione felt a little proud at the boy's words, pleased that finally, someone else seemed to appreciate the scenery around them as much as she did.

"Thanks, I spend much of the day outside just exploring them." She answered with a small smile. _Minerva would probably love them as well_. The thought came to her so unexpected that Hermione nearly stumbled over her own feet. She hadn't thought of the girl in months. She missed her future teacher more than she would've expected.

"Merlin that sounds kinda lonely after some time," Abraxas replied, but Hermione just shrugged.

"I like being by myself, it's easier." The boy looked sceptical at her answer but thankfully didn't argue back. They stepped into the clearing with the small fountain Hermione had discovered a couple of months ago and sat down on one of the wooden benches situated around the edges of the clearing.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Abraxas finally asked, enjoying the warm rays of the afternoon sun shining down on their faces.

"Even though my father will probably have a small heart attack, I don't want to end up anywhere else than Gryffindor."

Surprised at her choice, Abraxas looked at the pale girl beside him and thoughtfully pursed his lips. "Well, you don't seem like a typical Gryffindor to me, but then again we don't really know each other that much."

Hermione snorted at his answer and turned around to face him. "What about you, Malfoy?"

The boy looked up to the sky with a thoughtful expression. "Slytherin. Father wouldn't accept anything else." He said a little too casually.

Hermione decided to probe a little further. "So is this your father's choice or yours as well?"

Abraxas wrinkled his forehead seemingly deep in thought and then nodded. "I wouldn't mind getting sorted into Ravenclaw either, but Slytherin would be my first choice I think."

Hermione inclined her head and smiled. "That's good to hear."

The younger Malfoy's serious eyes locked with Hermione's and she wondered how such a young boy could already look so grim.

"In the end, we'll always have to do what our parents think is right." At that moment Hermione realised, that like Draco, Abraxas had been brought up in a Household much like the one she was now living in.

Well, without the blood rituals and duelling on the dining table obviously, but still. From the moment, he could speak, he probably had been taught to obey his parents every word and adapt their views on the world. Hermione knew from her pureblood peers in the future that corporal punishment still was very much a thing in the nineties, so she didn't even want to think about how children had been brought up fifty years earlier.

"Not everything our parents say is automatically right Malfoy." She desperately wanted the boy to understand, to realise that just because his father told him to join an evil cult for the sake of power as she was certain Septimus Malfoy would do in the future, he didn't have to agree.

But the boy just smiled tiredly. "Now, I see why you want to be a Gryffindor. You wouldn't last a day with the snakes."

Hermione knew he wanted to change the subject, but she wasn't done just yet. "Believe me, Malfoy, I know the consequences of speaking up to a parent." _But you have to stand your ground, or else everyone will just walk over you with no regards for your own feelings_. She thought, aware that she was being a hypocrite seeing as she went along with almost everything the Lestranges demanded from her.

"You're a girl, your father would most certainly not punish you as much as mine." He defended himself and Hermione had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his comment.

Another thing she wouldn't go along with forever was the blatant sexism that she seemed to face in nearly every area of her life. For now, she was too young to change things, but soon she would be able to show everyone, that a witch could be just as smart and talented as any wizard if given the chance.

"I don't really think so but anyway – enough with this gloomy conversation. What do you like to do in your spare time?"...

* * *

"It was a pleasure to meet you again Rodolphus, I hope we can discuss those plans of yours further at a later date." _Again_? Malfoy Sr. spoke while shaking her father's hand, while Hermione obediently stood at his side waiting for the Malfoys to finally leave so that she could lock herself in her room and have some alone time.

After nearly ten months of being cooped up in that house with just the two death eaters, she wasn't used to sharing her personal space with another person anymore. Except for her few visits to Diagon Alley and her rare talks with Minerva she had kept to herself, reverting back to her pre-Hogwarts self that had hidden from her relentless bullies in the restrooms, praying that nothing weird would happen again. Her bullies in this timeline being two notorious mass murderers with one of them having severe anger-issues additionally to him being as mad as a hatter didn't make things any easier for the young witch.

"You're always welcome to visit, Septimus. Your son too, of course." Rodolphus added as an afterthought while tightly squeezing Hermione's shoulders.

She forced a thin smile on her face and nodded in agreement. Septimus Malfoy looked at her approvingly as if it was somehow thanks to him that Hermione suddenly had learned some manners. "You have a very bright daughter my friend, it will be difficult to find a husband that can keep up with her in the future." He said clearly meaning to offend but Rodolphus, much to Hermione's astonishment, wasn't having any of it.

"I'm sure my daughter will do just fine, after all, she's a Lestrange." At Rodolphus answer, the older Malfoy looked as if he had bitten into something sour.

"I can see now where she gets her ideas from. Well, I can't judge you. Without any male heirs to carry on the family name, I would try to make the best out of a daughter as well." Hermione could feel her father's grip tighten painfully on her shoulder, but she was too busy to control herself and her sparking hair to shrug the man off.

How could it be that every Malfoy she met, no matter how far back she went, turned out to be a proper bastard? Maybe it's really in their gene's… _wait, does this means that Abraxas will eventually become just as bad his father and descendants_? That would be a pity.

"Thank you for your visit, Septimus, but you should leave now." Trying to sound casual but sounding, at least to Hermione, like he was about to hex the older Malfoy, Rodolphus pursed his lips.

Hermione would've never thought that she'd agree with the man on anything but the fact that he seemed to dislike Malfoy Sr. just as much as she did proved her wrong.

"Naturally, we wouldn't want to overstay our welcome. Say goodbye, Abraxas." The younger boy waved quietly at Hermione first and then spoke his farewell to Rodolphus. Once the two Malfoys were finally gone, Rodolphus grabbed his wand and aimed it at one of the vases in the entrance hall.

"Morgana's tits I hate this family. Lucius was just like his grandfather back in school. Posh little git that's what he was!" He growled and smashed the expensive item with an angry flick of his wand.

Hermione watched the ranting man for a few seconds, contemplating if she could sneak away without him noticing when he suddenly turned around and looked at her with gleaming eyes.

"Forget what I told you earlier, I want you to shove it in their blond faces, that you're superior to his son in any way - got it?" Hermione raised both her eyebrows at the man's words, not sure what he was talking about.

"I want you to crush that Malfoy boy." He grabbed Hermione's arms, shaking her, not too gently. Hermione, at this point, began to feel quite scared and drew her own wand.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that Rodolphus?" She asked through gritted teeth, ready to curse the man if he didn't let go of her.

"Use your brain girl. You'll best him in every subject, you'll defeat him in duelling class, and finally, you'll become the dark lords closest associate instead of him, his father will be livid." He crooned, but all Hermione could think of was how Abraxas' father would punish him for his failures.

 _He's a death eater, he deserves it_. A voice that sounded like Ron hissed in her mind, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to think that way. _He's just a child, at least for now. He doesn't deserve to get hurt._

"Whatever, Rodolphus." She answered, swearing to herself to try her best to somehow protect Abraxas.

Even if Rodolphus wouldn't have told her, she had no intention to pretend to be a dim-witted little girl at Hogwarts. She would do just as well as she had in the future, as she just couldn't bring herself to give up on her studious nature for the sake of fitting in.

"Good Girl." He crooned, finally letting go of her. Rubbing her burning arms, Hermione watched the happily humming man walk away from her. _What a psycho_.

* * *

 **September 1938**

The train station was bustling with life as countless people rushed past them, chatting happily about everything and nothing. Hermione felt just as overwhelmed as she did in her first year, as she watched the smoking red engine a few metres away from her, waiting for the students to board.

Older students in grey Uniforms and billowing black robes helped the younger ones with their luggage as their frenzy mothers hovered over them, telling them last-minute tips for their stay at school.

"It's been quite a while since I've seen this train," Rabastan spoke up with something akin to melancholy in his voice while he followed Hermione through the bustling crowd.

Hermione paid him no mind, the freedom that came with being at Hogwarts seemingly within reach. "Remember what my brother told you. Befriend the dark lord, don't stick out." Her escort reminded her and Hermione nodded absentmindedly. Eager to finally get away from the man.

"I know, I know. I'll behave." She pushed her trolley past a couple of redheads musing if they were perhaps Weasleys before they eventually arrived at one of the carriages. Without another word, Hermione grabbed the hand of an older Hufflepuff that helped her climb up the steep steps of the train.

"Thanks." She told him cheerfully while taking her enchanted luggage from him, her bags weighing close to nothing thanks to Winny's nifty spellwork.

He gave her a curt nod before turning around to help another student and Hermione closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She was finally safe. She opened her eyes and looked around the train. A group of excited Gryffindors passed by her. Hermione, for the first time in over a year, felt like she belonged again. She felt as if all her worries suddenly had been lifted from her shoulders. With a silly grin, she went on a search for a free seat...

* * *

After a few minutes, she arrived at the last compartment in her carriage and after a moment of hesitation, pushed the door open. A familiar red-haired girl looked up to see who had entered.

"Hermione?" Minerva McGonagall looked up surprised before smiling broadly at the girl, forcefully pulling her out of her stupor.

"Hey Minerva, long-time no see," Hermione responded apologetically before being pulled into a tight hug. She immediately flung both her arms around the other girl's shoulder, suppressing her bitter tears.

"Oh my god, I was so worried when you just stopped showing up," Minerva said when both girls finally sat down opposite from each other.

Hermione grimaced at the memory of the day Rodolphus had found out about their little meetings. "I'm so sorry Minerva, something came up at home." She hoped the girl wouldn't ask any more questions.

"You look ghastly Hermione. You're even paler than I remember and it's summer. Also, is your hair darker?" With her stern voice, she sounded so much like her future self, that Hermione had to physically restrain herself by digging her nails into her hands, from answering her future teacher.

"Thanks a lot, Minerva, you know how to cheer a girl up." Hermione tried to joke, but her friend didn't even think of leaving the issue alone before Hermione had given her a proper answer.

"Oh come on just tell me what's really going on. We'll spend the next seven years together, might as well start being honest with each other now." Minerva lectured, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell the girl about her horrible life.

"It's really nothing Minerva, I just had a lot of lessons before Hogwarts and spend my free time in our gardens or the library," Hermione told the sceptical girl, but after looking her up and down a few times, she finally nodded.

"Well, alright, I believe you." Relieved, Hermione smiled at the inquisitive girl. They chatted for nearly an hour, catching up on everything that had happened in the past months when the compartment door opened again.

"I can't stand the noisy people in the other carriage, is one of the seats here still free?" An incredibly grumpy looking Antonin Dolohov asked while waving at the empty spaces next to Hermione and Minerva.

Before Hermione could say anything, Minerva invited the boy to stay in their compartment, much to Hermione's dismay. The boy inclined his head once before sitting down next to the miffed girl.

"I'm Minerva McGonagall first year. The girl beside you is-" Dolohov interrupted her before she could finish her introductions.

"-Hermione Lestrange, we met in Diagon Alley once. Abraxas told me you're quite intimidating if you want to. " He finished.

"She has that effect on people. I mean with those dark robes she's always wearing it's no wonder that some people find her scary." Minerva joked good-heartedly, and Antonin snickered. Actually, snickered!

Hermione was more than a little irritated by their behaviour, having grown actually fond of her dresses over the past months…or at least accustomed to the monotone colour palette of her wardrobe.

"It's easy to decide what to wear when all your clothes work well together."

She argued, but Minerva just laughed more. "Just continue telling yourself that Hermione. The day will come where you'll want to burn those robes."

Hermione decided to give up on her quest to defend her Style and joined Minerva's laughing. Much to Hermione's surprise, Dolohov turned out to be a scarily intelligent boy, and the three of them spend the rest of the train ride discussing various things they had read in Hogwarts a History...

* * *

"Cygnus Black." A scrawny looking boy with rust-coloured hair hurried to the chair at the front of the great hall and sat down. Hermione stood beside Minerva, waiting to be sorted while looking around the place she had once considered home.

Nothing much had changed in the past five decades. The students still sat at the same tables she once had, their uniforms only difference from their modern counterparts were the fabrics they were made of, with the current ones feeling much more rough to the skin. Hundreds of candles floated above their heads, engulfing everything in a warm hue.

"Minerva McGonagall." Her friend squeezed Hermione's hand excitedly, before raising her chin and walking up to the sorting hat.

"Gryffindor!" The hat finally hollered after what must have been the longest amount of time in decades it had taken for a student to get sorted and Hermione wasn't surprised at all, that her headstrong Professor had been a hatstall.

Hermione watched astonished as Antonin Dolohov got sorted into Ravenclaw before listening to Abraxas naturally getting sorted into Slytherin.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." At the call of this infamous name, her head snapped up and taken aback she watched the somewhat familiar-looking boy pass by her.

The pale boy sat down, and before the hat had even touched his head, it roared Slytherin. His face didn't betray any emotions as he sat down at his new house table, and suddenly, Hermione remembered from where she knew the boy. _Merlin's pants we slept under the same fucking roof as Lord Voldemort_!

Hermione's heart sped up at the thought of how many times she had sat in the orphanage's library with the boy. _What are the chances that my Tom is the future dark lord? Merlin my karma is shite_.

"Hermione Lestrange." When she heard her name being called, Hermione snapped out of her racing thoughts, hastily making her way up to the chair.

"Would you look at that. There's something not quite right with your mind, girl. Curious, very curious." The hat cackled at her shock and continued to whisper directly into her mind.

"What a mad world we live in, don't you think? Haven't had a time traveller in centuries." Hermione held her tongue and prayed that the hat wouldn't tell on her.

"Blowing your cover? No, why would I do that? That'd be no fun. Well! No time to waste, where to put you…" He seemed to think for a few seconds before speaking again. "I think you'll do best where you feel most at home so…"

"Gryffindor!" The hat called out loudly, and Hermione nearly broke out in tears right on the chair. She didn't think that she was still able to feel as much happiness as she did once she sat down at the cheering table next to a boy that kind of looked like Harry if you squinted your eyes. Minerva happily waved at her, having already found a free space a few seats away from where Hermione was sitting.

"Man, if Malfoy looks that pissed at someone it can only mean that this person and I are destined to be best friends forever." Hermione turned to look at the young Harry lookalike before looking over her shoulder to the Slytherin table where a scowling Abraxas was indeed watching her.

He really seemed to have thought, that Hermione would join him in Slytherin just like her father had wanted. _In your dreams_. She grinned at the boy before returning her attention back to the smirking boy next to her.

"He's just a little surprised. Don't think too highly of me." She joked, but the boy just shook his head.

"I hope he'll stay surprised for the next seven years then. The name's Charlus Potter by the way."

Astounded Hermione grabbed the boy's outstretched hand. So he really was related to Harry in some way, that at least explained the similarity.

"Hermione Lestrange, nice to meet you, Potter."

* * *

 **Thanks for all the follows and the nice reviews :) Here's another chapter I finished instead of working on my thesis...I didn't want to spend too much time writing about her time before Hogwarts, so I split the chapter into a few parts highlighting the key events before her departure. xoxo**


	3. 1st Year - Part I

**October 1938**

"Can anyone tell me what you get when you mix powdered moonstone and unicorn horn together?" Professor Slughorn asked the class.

Giving in to her inner know-it-all, Hermione eagerly raised her hand.

She watched her former, now much younger Professor wait for a while longer, to give the other students a chance to answer, before clapping his hands together.

"Tom, my boy!" He turned to the dark-haired boy next to Hermione. "I think Miss Lestrange answered the previous question, so it's your turn now."

Hermione, let out an irritated huff, as Riddle sat up a little straighter at Slughorn's words. "Thank you, Professor, mixing those two ingredients results in a common calming draught."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Riddles aloof voice, trying not to scowl at the arrogant boy. "Brilliant, five points for Slytherin. My- this year, I not only got one but two promising Potioneers in my class." Slughorn looked at Hermione and Riddle with gleeful eyes before returning to explain the potion to the rest of the class.

"You should stop frowning if you don't want Slughorn to notice your apparent dislike for me Lestrange, don't want to start any rumours now do we?" Riddle murmured.

Hermione scoffed at the boy who was calmly writing away on his parchment, trying to ignore how he, despite being left-handed, still had a nicer handwriting than herself. _How can an eleven-year-old already write so well with a damn quill? How is that even fair_?

"Oh shut it, Riddle." She hissed back, but the other boy just looked at her sceptically before returning to his notes, not bothering to further continue their conversation.

When the class had finally ended, Hermione hastily scrambled her things together before hurrying out of the classroom to catch up with Minerva and Charlus. Her first two days at Hogwarts had gone surprisingly well, considering where the sorting hat had put her and she had yet to hear anything back from the Lestranges. Hermione figured it wouldn't take much longer until Rodolphus found out about her sorting. Not from her, that was for sure, but she could practically hear Abraxas ranting to his father about what had happened from the Slytherin dungeons.

Deep in thought, the young girl sat down at one of the empty tables at the far back of the library and pulled out her potions assignment.

"Really Lestrange, library again?" Charlus Potter's incredulous voice pulled Hermione from her thoughts.

Smirking she dipped her quill back into her inkpot, pointedly ignoring the other Gryffindor. "Oh come on! The game starts soon, and I even got McGonagall to join us in the stands." He pouted, but Hermione stayed silent. "If you don't come I'll tell everyone you're secretly rooting for the snakes." Charlus threatened, plopping down in the seat next to Hermione, who in turn just threw her head back in frustration.

"It's just Quidditch, Potter. I'll join you guys another time." She offered, hoping to get the aggravating boy.

"No can do Lestrange. Either you pack your stuff now or face the consequences later." Before she could stop the boy, he snatched the quill from her hand.

"Hey!" The cackling boy turned on his heels and started running from the angry girl in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch. _That boy is worse than Ron and Harry combined_.

Resigned Hermione gave up on her quest of finishing her assignment and followed after her housemate. Completely lost in her thoughts, she didn't see the two Slytherins as she turned around another corner. Startled she managed to narrowly avoid running straight into Abraxas Malfoy's chest, almost stumbling over her own feet in the process.

"Watch it, Gryffindork!" Malfoy hissed before realising it was Hermione who in turn raised an eyebrow at his hostile behaviour. Clearly embarrassed the pale boy stammered something akin to an apology before hurriedly asking if she was alright.

"You know her, Abraxas?" A boy with the most annoyingly perfect curls Hermione had ever seen drawled.

"Evan, that's Hermione Lestrange, the girl from the continent I told you about," Malfoy answered before Hermione could speak up for herself.

"Really?" The boy looked her up and down in a way that made Hermione feel more than a little uncomfortable. "I imagined her to be a little prettier."

Hermione bristled at the boy's blatant insult, ready to give him a piece of her mind when Malfoy hurriedly interrupted. "Don't pay him any mind Lestrange, Rosier's a prat."

The boy called Evan just shrugged his shoulders, and Hermione pursed her lips at his condescending expression. _What a little brat_. "...Pleasure to meet you." Even a deaf person could've detected the sarcasm dripping from her lips. "If you'd excuse me, my housemates forced me to attend the next game." She drawled, shoving past the two Slytherins in hopes of avoiding any further conversation.

"Oy, wait up Lestrange, we were on our way to the pitch as well!" Malfoy called, effectively ruining Hermione's escape plan. Again.

She took a deep breath before turning around to face them with a forced smile on her lips. When the two finally cought up with her, she quickened her pace, desperately hoping that none of her housemates would see her with them. She did not need any rumours of herself fraternising with the enemy so early on already.

"Scared of being caught with us, Lestrange?" Evan what's-his-name laughed, noticing her obvious discomfort. Hermione just glared at the mean boy, determined not to speak another word with the two.

Malfoy punched his friend's arm not too gently in response to his taunts earning himself a kick in the shin in return. _Boys_. "Shut up Evan, she's still an honourable witch, regardless of her house,"

"Just 'cause your father told you to be nice to the blood traitor doesn't mean I have to be too." Noticing her patience with the boy wearing thin, Hermione continued to force herself to ignore his mean words.

The trio silently passed by some older Ravenclaws before that Evan boy opened his annoying mouth again. "Say, Lestrange, are you proud of dishonouring your family every time you put on that uniform?"

Finally having it with the boy's constant bullying, Hermione came to an abrupt halt, forcing her two companions to stop as well. Trying to calm herself down a little before speaking, Hermione curled her fingers into a fist, her nails digging painfully into her palms. "If you don't shut your mouth Rosier, I'll hex you silly." She spat angrily, enjoying Malfoy's scandalised look at her strong language, before focussing her gaze back on the Rosier boy.

"You Gryffindors sure are a rowdy bunch. I pity the man that'll have to marry you someday." Rosier said casually, not in the least intimidated by Hermione's words. The girl clenched her teeth in frustration at the idiot's attitude, trying her best to keep her calm. Making a scene in the corridors for everyone to see would just prove Rosier's taunts.

"Cat got your tongue Lestrange, or did I just hit a sore spot there?" The boy smirked, but before Hermione could answer, Malfoy interrupted her for the second time, irritating the girl even further.

"Come on, Evan, bullying witches is low. Even for you." Rosier just rolled his green eyes before turning back to Hermione,

"Abraxas is right. I shouldn't waste my time on some Gryffindor blood traitor, your life is already sad enough." Speechless at his words, Hermione tried to understand how a young boy like him could already have such a rotten personality. Then she remembered that he would be one of Voldemort's first followers and one basically had to be a prat to join Tom's secret club.

Hermione was forcefully reminded why the Lestranges had kept her alive all those months ago. Trying to push back her growing unease, she focussed her attention on a point on the wall behind her two companions. Closing her eyes for a few seconds before turning around again, she continued her walk to the pitch, not sparing the two Slytherins another glance.

"Don't act all high and mighty with us Lestrange, it's really unattractive." Hermione grimaced at Rosier's comment but kept her mouth shut. He wasn't worth the trouble she would get herself into if she were found torturing a fellow student in the corridors...

* * *

"Words cannot describe how much I hate that Idiot." Hermione cursed while furiously finishing their current Astrology assignment. After two weeks of constant squabbling with Evan Rosier, she finally had enough of the insufferable boy and told Abraxas to keep Rosier off her back if he valued his friend's ability to walk.

"I don't know what you did to that guy Hermione, but I love it." Charlus Potter laughed at the red-faced girl's incredulous look but kept a safe distance from her wand still.

"He's worse than Tom Riddle, and that boy is a real menace!" She huffed.

"Oh come on, just because Riddle can keep up with your ridiculous brain in class, doesn't mean he's a bad person," Minerva argued much to Hermione's dismay while offering some candy to her and Charlus.

"I don't know Minny, that boy is suspicious." Charlus threw in, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"See? Even Charlus sees through his nice-boy façade." Said boy grinned at their scowling friend who just sighed at their childish behaviour.

"Quit conspiring against me and finish your homework, I want to get dinner." Hermione smiled at their banter, feeling relaxed for the first time since she'd arrived in this time.

Despite all the drawbacks that came with being a child again, she'd missed the simple life at Hogwarts nonetheless. Here, no Dementors were roaming the corridors or death eaters torturing the younger students. No, in this time the biggest worries the students had, were the length of their assignments or whatever silly drama was currently happening in the different houses. _Merlin, I've missed this common room_. Hermione turned to look around the cosy student lounge. She could not think of anything more calming than sitting in front of the large fireplace with her friends.

"She's gone again. Wanna paint something on her face and see if she notices?" Before Charlus could draw even closer, Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, lightly shoving the boy away from her.

"Don't you dare Potter; I'll never help you with potions again if you come even one step closer to me with that quill in your hand." Her words seemed to genuinely concern the boy because he immediately sprang up from his position, his hands high in the air in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it. No moustaches on your face ever." Hermione nodded, satisfied with his promise.

They swiftly finished their assignments, much to Minerva's satisfaction, before making their way down to the great hall for dinner...

* * *

The next day during History of Magic, Hermione found herself sitting next to Riddle and Malfoy, after having been left by her friends in favour of Melinda Bones and some other mates of the Potter heir. Having to have to choose between sitting next to Henry Jones, a Hufflepuff whose only talent was to copy her coursework while pretending not to, and the Slytherin duo, Hermione had decided that Riddle at least didn't leech off her academic success.

"…And while the goblin wars most certainly were an amazing endeavour…" Hermione continued to absentmindedly write down some notes on the second goblin war, attempting to stay awake for the remainder of the lesson when she felt Riddle next to her shift on their bench. She glanced at the dark-haired boy who seemed unaffected by Professor Binn's monotone lecture.

His feather moved without any interruption over the parchment, with him only occasionally pausing, to dip it back into the ink before swiftly continuing. Hermione scoffed at his meticulous writing. He reminded her so much of herself in her first year that it was scary.

"You're staring again, Lestrange." Riddle suddenly whispered, nearly giving Hermione a small heart attack at the sudden noise.

"I'm not staring Riddle, it's called observing." She murmured back, quickly returning her attention to her own notes.

"And what exactly are you observing Lestrange?"

"If you really want to know Riddle, I'm still surprised to have found someone who can actually keep up with me." She watched satisfied, as the boy stopped writing for a second before catching himself.

"My, aren't you a modest witch." He said sarcastically, not paying any mind to Malfoy's questioning gaze to his left. They sat at the far back of the room, so Professor Binns continued to be oblivious to their whispering.

"I'm just being honest. Many people just take this opportunity to learn for granted." Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Riddle if his contemplating gaze was anything to go by. Instead of answering, though, the boy turned back to his notes, leaving Hermione to wonder what he was thinking...

* * *

"Why were you at the orphanage when we first met?" Tom Riddle didn't give Hermione any chance to sneak away after the lesson, by forcing her to walk between himself and Malfoy, who in turn looked just as surprised as Hermione herself at Riddles sudden question.

"Orphanage?" The Malfoy heir asked.

Hermione sighed, she had hoped to avoid this conversation. Waiting until the rest of the students were out of earshot, she waved off Minerva's and Charlus' questioning gazes, signalling them that she would tell them about everything later.

"I first met Riddle at an orphanage in London, shortly after my family moved to Scotland." She answered Malfoy's question before continuing. "I got into an argument with my father and got lost in the city after that. A policeman found me and left me at the same orphanage Riddle lives at. It took my family a few weeks to find me."

While Abraxas pitied Hermione for what she must have endured during her stay, Riddle continued to look sceptical. "I followed you the day you were picked up by your relative." Hermione stumbled at his words, her heart clenching at the thought of Riddle seeing her with Rabastan. "You looked terrified of the man. In fact, it looked like you really didn't want to go with him." Riddle watched Hermione's reaction like a hawk.

The girl pushed her growing panic down, trying to think of an explanation. To her surprise, it was Malfoy who eventually came to her rescue. "Of course she was scared Riddle, my father would've skinned me alive if I'd ran away from home." For the first time, Hermione was grateful for the boy's interruption, she couldn't have thought of a better excuse herself. _You're brilliant Malfoy_.

"Your family is like Abraxas' then?" Riddle asked seemingly curious, but Hermione knew that his question was anything but an innocent inquiry about her family life. _He wants to see if I'm worth keeping around_.

"My father... is on the more traditional side, yes." She snapped, unable to keep her resentment for the man from her voice.

"You'll do then." Riddle gave her a most charming smile. "You'll tell me everything I need to know about how this world works." Hermione nearly choked on her own spit at this unexpected request. Looking at him now, his smile, the way he already carried himself; she could definitely see why so many people had fallen for his charade in the past.

"Why would you need my help Riddle, you have Abraxas, and your other fellow housemates don't you?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"You and Abraxas are the only ones who know of my current… situation and I'd like to keep it that way. You must know about my house's... conservative worldviews." Hermione hastily nodded at the boy. This was her chance to get closer to Riddle, without having to torture some poor animals or whatever.

"And you think a Gryffindor like me can help you?" To her astonishment Riddle nodded, his cold grey eyes finding her own, making the girl realise just how pretty they actually were. _Merlin, this boy is gonna grow up fine._

"Gryffindor or not, you're still the only other student I've encountered, that seems to admire magic to the same extent I do." The small group came to a halt in front of the library. Hermione was surprised that she hadn't even noticed where Riddle had been leading them all this time. "We also already know each other, and from what I've seen at the orphanage, you're a real goody-two-shoes." Riddle scoffed. "These muggles don't deserve our respect." Hermione was appaled at the thought of Riddle watching her every move back in London. Now that she knew what the quiet boy from the orphanage would become one day she felt exposed. He had seen a side of her, that she'd rather have kept to herself.

"We will meet up twice a week here to talk about everything I might want to know, and in return, I'll make sure that Rosier and his cronies leave you alone." Riddle proposed, sounding more like he was giving her an order.

Hermione bit her lips, eager to finish this conversation. "I appreciate the offer Riddle, but I can take care of those buffoon's myself. How about we just say you owe me one?" She smiled at the contemplative boy, offering a hand to seal the deal.

"Agreed." He grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it once before abruptly letting go again, obviously not used to touching another person.

She could understand. During her stay at the orphanage, she hadn't seen the boy interact with any of the children outside of their lessons. Hermione was certain that Tom Riddle never had any friends at that dreadful place. _Well, I doubt he wanted them, friends don't really seem to fit into his whole evil overlord plan_.

"So, am I a part of your little study group as well or what?" Malfoy asked after a moment of silence.

"Seeing as you're already here, I don't see why not. You're very well connected. This might come in hand someday." _Seeing as Hermione doesn't know anyone here yet_. She finished Riddle's sentence in her head but wisely kept her thoughts to herself.

"Well, this is going to be fun. As a Slytherin, it's basically my duty to guide the last parselmouth of our house on his path to glory." Hermione's head snapped back to Riddle.

"Thanks for elaborating the girl on my behalf Abraxas. It's much appreciated." Riddle's eyes flashed dangerously for a second. "He saw me speaking to one of the portraits on the first day. At least he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut until now. You'll not tell anybody about this, am I clear?" Taken a little aback, Hermione remembered that she was not just talking to an ordinary boy at the moment but the future dark l- Voldemort.

"I promise Riddle." She answered before turning back to a suddenly very pale Abraxas Malfoy.

Riddle nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. He bid the two a curt farewell before entering the library. The blond boy next to her exhaled loudly, nervously brushing his hair back behind his ears.

"I'm sorry that you got dragged into this Lestrange, there's something seriously wrong with him." Surprised at his unexpected words, Hermione questioningly raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"What do you mean Malfoy? You seemed comfortable with him a second ago."

"I'm a Slytherin, pretending to be okay with things is kinda our thing." He answered, looking more uncomfortable by the second. "Riddle can talk to snakes, that makes him a descendant of our house's founder but still…Something about him just seems off."

Hermione feigned a look of confusion, making Malfoy in turn nervously play with the hem of his robe. "I don't know, alright! Just try to keep your distance from him if you can." He finally exclaimed before abruptly turning around, leaving Hermione alone in the deserted corridor...

* * *

 **November 1938**

Hermione was in the middle of packing her bag for the day when Minerva sat down on the desk next to her, lazily swinging her feet in Hermione's direction.

"You want to tell me why you're meeting up with Riddle and Malfoy all the time?" She casually asked, but Hermione knew her new friend well enough to know that keeping silent on that matter was not an option, so she turned around to her housemate with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"First, how do you even know about that? We meet so early that even Madam Pince is still asleep."

"You're my roommate, when I woke up last week to find your bed already empty, I wanted to find out what you were up to so early,"

Hermione smiled at the girl's flippant answer. "Well, to be honest, I can't really tell you, but would it be enough if I assured you that it's for purely academic reasons?"

Her friend tutted at Hermione's apologetic smile but thankfully let her off the hook for the moment. "Alright, but I'll be really mad if you're lying to me right now!" Hermione eagerly nodded at her future Professor. If anyone would've told her, that she would befriend her head of house someday, she would've laughed at them.

The two of them made their way down to the great hall for breakfast, where they met up with Charlus. "So are you going home for Christmas?" He asked when the two girls sat down next to him.

"Of course! I can't wait to see my brothers again. Never thought that I'd actually miss those two rascals." Minerva immediately responded whereas Hermione just grimaced at the thought of having to go back to the Lestranges again.

"What about you, Hermione? Any plans for the Holidays?" Minerva, who had known Hermione before their time at Hogwarts, looked over to the unusually quiet girl. Remembering the first time she had met her pale and tired-looking friend, Minerva wondered not for the first time how her relationship with her family was.

"Not really. I guess I'll just enjoy the solitude and hang out with Winny."

Charlus looked at her questioningly. "Winny?"

"Oh sorry, she's my house-elf," Hermione answered, watching the coughing boy trying to regain his composure.

"Sounds awfully lonely." Minerva subtly kicked their friend's leg.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

Hermione smiled at the boy's discomfort. "Don't worry, it really isn't as bad as you imagine it to be. I really enjoy my alone time."

Charlus and Minerva didn't look convinced but were smart enough to not dig any deeper, leaving it up to Hermione to confide in them when she was feeling ready.

"Well, you're both welcome to come over if you've got time. My mother would love to meet you two!" The thought of a flustered Charlus, introducing them to his mum made Hermione smile.

 _This actually sounds like a great idea. Maybe I should ask Rodolphus if I can go_. Hermione thought to herself, mentally preparing a list of arguments why her father should allow her to visit the Potters.

"All right, let's go, I don't want to be late for class!" Minerva said, and together they left for their first class...

* * *

 **December 1938**

The house looked just as intimidating as she'd remembered. Hermione attempted to control the growing dread that was slowly consuming her thoughts. She hadn't heard a word from any of the brothers about her sorting, and that terrified her more than she liked to admit to herself.

 _This feels like I'm walking right into a trap_. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on her luggage and went up the stairs of the imposing manor.

"Where the hell is Winny when you need her." Irritated by the elf's apparent absence, she stopped in front of the large doors of her new home.

Again, Hermione wondered why no one had come to pick her up at the train station. She'd expected to be ducking away from some nasty hexes by now, or if nothing else, be yelled at by Rodolphus at least. She hadn't expected to be met with complete indifference. _This is not good. Not at all_.

She felt her heartbeat speeding up at the thought of entering the dark house unarmed and proceeded to pull out her wand, mentally preparing herself before knocking on one of the doors. It swung open with a creaking sound, revealing an eerily quiet entrance hall. _Oh, Hell no_.

Unsure what to do next, Hermione peeked inside the house, anxiously waving her wand to light the chandeliers on the ceiling, before finally dropping her luggage next to the door and setting a careful step inside the house.

"Hello?" She called nervously but received no answer. Feeling goosebumps forming on her arms and neck, she absentmindedly hugged her midsection in an attempt to quench the unease blossoming from within her.

With her wand still drawn, she quietly climbed up the stairs to the first floor, figuring that if any one of the Lestrange brothers were home, they would be in Rodolphus' study. _Merlin, get a grip, Hermione. They obviously want to scare you_. She told herself repeatedly but to no avail. She felt as she was back on the run from the snatchers with every single fibre in her body telling her to turn around and run. Once she stood in front of the study, Hermione gathered all the Gryffindor courage she could muster and waved her quivering hand at the doors.

"Crucio!" Hermione barely managed to dodge the red beam that shot in her direction.

 _I knew it_! Forcing her shaking muscles to cooperate, she hastily conjured the strongest shield she knew before pulling herself up, sprinting into the darkened room. Hermione immediately spotted her furious father sitting behind his desk, his wand still pointed at his shaking daughter. She struggled to breathe evenly, her body not being used to the sudden shots of adrenaline anymore.

"I'm… very disappointed in you, Hermione." His voice was rough as if he'd been yelling for the past hours.

Hermione nervously bit the insides of her cheeks until she could taste the familiar coppery taste of blood. She spotted the empty glass on his desk and concluded that he must have been drinking prior to her arrival. _I'm so dead, should've just run when I had the chance at the train station_.

"Where's Rabastan?" Her voice sounded much smaller than she would have liked.

The older Lestrange brother chuckled darkly. "Away with that dim-witted witch, he fancies. Sorry to tell you, but we're all alone today."

Hermione's insides clenched at the thought of having to face that madman all by herself. She'd desperately hoped, to at least have Rabastan with her to stop his brother from actually killing her.

Swallowing hard as she watched her father idly playing with his wand, she prepared herself to hex him if he attacked her again. "We had an agreement, girl. Imagine my surprise when Septimus told me where that blasted hat put you." He hissed, before grabbing his empty glass, smashing it against the wall behind Hermione who narrowly avoided being hit by the object.

"You knew that I wouldn't join the snakes! I'm still trying my best to get close to Riddle, so why are you so angry?" She asked, hoping to appease the man a little.

"Cheeky little brat, I told you to write to me." Rodolphus looked livid.

He slammed his hands on his desk before standing up and glaring down at a very intimidated Hermione. _Pull yourself together, Hermione! He's just a bully like Rosier_. But as she looked up to the angry man, all logic left her head.

While her adult mind was yelling at her to pull herself together, her eleven-year-old body was terrified of the scowling man and wanted nothing more than curl into a little ball and bawl her eyes out.

"I'm sorry, alright! My actions were uncalled for, but still, I'm trying my best." She answered with a shaky voice, watching the man across the room trying to calm himself down.

Rodolphus pinched his nose with his free hand before taking a deep breath and sitting down again. "Come here. Tell me what you've accomplished, and I might lessen your punishment."

She gulped, aware that she was walking on thin ice right now and sat down on the other side of the desk. "I'm helping Riddle out twice a week with getting around the wizarding world and sometimes study with him and Malfoy." She paused to see Rodolphus' reaction to her words before continuing. "We-Well he said that it's good that I'm a Gryffindor because I'm not trying to gain anything by helping him…Ironic, I know." She joked, but her father's stern gaze quickly wiped the small smile from her face.

"What else? You should try harder if you want me to forgive you." The man drawled, making Hermione shuffle uncomfortably in her chair.

"I think that's already quite a lot, it's only been a little over two months." She murmured quietly, fear churning her stomach in intense cramps.

Hermione thought, she'd achieved a lot since she'd started school, but Rodolphus only pressed his lips into a thin line at her answer.

"From now on you'll write to me once a week, I want to know everything." Hermione clenched her teeth at the man's words but nodded. She could talk to him about her wish to visit Charlus when he had calmed down a little.

"Now, for your punishment-" Hermione's head snapped back up to his hollow face, dreading what would follow next. She gripped her wand even tighter, ready to deflect any curses he might throw at her. "Winny!"

Dread began creeping over Hermione like an icy chill. "No." She whispered, desperately trying to think of anything to stop the man from hurting the innocent creature. The little elf appeared at Hermione's side, clearly happy to see her Mistress.

"Master Lestrange called Winny?" Hermione felt her insides turn as she watched Rodolphus' sinister smile. He knew he had her.

"Winny, your Mistress was very bad in the past two months." The elf's eyes widened at her Master's words, shocked that her Miss had disobeyed her father. The small elf turned around to face Hermione, who stood frozen by her chair, fear engulfing her conscience, knocking all other thoughts aside.

"Rodolphus please don't. I beg you." She should've known that the man would find a way to truly hurt Hermione after already breaking her wand the year before. She knew that threatening the man would backfire so instead, she swallowed her pride to protect the little elf.

"Miss Hermione! Winny is very happy to see Missy again. But Missy shouldn't have disobeyed her father. Winny will gladly take all the blame."

"No, no, no, you don't have to Winny it's my fault. You should just leave. You're my elf so leave right now." She tried but much to Rodolphus' glee, the elf just shook its head.

"Winny must listen to Master Lestrange first. Winny is sorry, Missy."

Hermione felt sick as she watched the elf cower in front of her father who lazily twirled his wand in his right hand before pointing it at her elf.

"Crucio." He spoke calmly and watched the elf squirming on the hard floor.

A sob escaped Hermione's dry lips, and she helplessly grabbed her wand, torn between helping Winny and holding herself back to avoid an even crueller punishment. After what felt like an eternity, Rodolphus finally lifted the curse and Hermione hurried over to the crying elf, helping the hurt creature stand. She glared at the older Lestrange brother, her blood feeling like fire running through her veins.

"You're a monster." The man just laughed, and before Hermione could react, the man cast another spell.

"Imperio." Hermione suddenly felt all her worries leaving her exhausted body. Having been trained in occlumency, she knew that she'd been placed under the Imperius, but she still failed to break free from the curse, that was drowning her sanity under heavy layers of utter content.

"Now, let's have some fun shall we, Hermione?" She felt Rodolphus pat her head affectionately. Hermione smiled at her father's apparent approval.

"Be a dear and curse that elf for me will you." He pointed his wand at her house-elf. Hermione hesitated for a second. She didn't want to hurt Winny, feeling that it was somehow wrong but not wanting to disappoint her father either, she slowly lifted her wand.

"Sectumsempra." The elf fell back to the ground with a yelp, dark blood soaking the thin cloth it was wearing. Rodolphus laughed cruelly, praising Hermione for her spellwork. He hadn't expected the girl to know any of his old housemate's curses.

Despite her father's appreciation, however, Hermione felt like what she'd just done wasn't right. The fog around her mind seemed to recede as she watched the elf whimpering at her feet and suddenly Hermione's vision cleared again, forcefully dragging her disoriented mind back to reality.

The horror of what she'd just done hit her with full force. Disgust curled up inside her and clung to her ribs, settling uncomfortably in her heart.

"Oh my God, Winny are you alright?" She stammered, feeling like she might get sick. Trembling, she hurriedly took off her coat to press it onto the bleeding cuts littering the small elf's body.

"Leave us, Winny." Rodolphus snarled before Hermione could reach the shaking creature that immediately apparated away.

Hermione whirled around to the man fully intending to hex him, when she was met with the end of his wand instead.

"Ah, ah, ah one word and we'll repeat this whole endeavour." He dared her and Hermione immediately closed her mouth, feeling her insides twist at the man's cold gaze. _How can a person be so vile_?

"Now, I think you've learned your lesson, don't try me, Hermione. It won't end pretty." Grabbing her shoulder, the man hissed a few more threats before rereleasing the crying girl, harshly shoving her away from him.

"Think about your mistakes and don't be late for dinner tonight. You may leave."

Hermione wiped her hot tears away, giving the man one last disgusted look before hurrying out of the room, feeling utterly empty inside…

* * *

 _"You betrayed them."_

 _"You are a traitor, why couldn't you just stay dead?!"_

 _"What would Harry and Ron say when they saw you right now?"_

With a gasp, Hermione woke up, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Clutching her rapidly beating heart, she tried to calm herself down a little before quietly slipping out from under her heavy blankets.

Exhausted the young girl dragged herself into her bathroom and splashed some icy water on her face, washing away her tears. She looked up from the sink into the mirror on the wall in front of her and sighed.

She was no stranger to nightmares, having struggled with them since she had witnessed Harry sobbing over Cedric Diggory's pale corpse in her fourth year. First, she had tried to just live with them, but the events in the following years got progressively worse, forcing her to turn to sleeping draughts and other kinds of potions to get her through the night.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath and pulled her thin nightgown closer to her shivering body. _I need to get my act together, tomorrow is Christmas so no more dark thoughts for now_. She dried off her face and filled herself a glass of water before crawling back into her bed, praying that she would get at least a few hours of before sunrise...

* * *

Christmas Eve ended up to be one of the most awkward events Hermione had ever had the misfortune to attend in her life. As she sat next to Rodolphus, contemplating if ramming her fork into her face to get away from the table was worth the pain, Hermione swore to herself to just pretend to be sick next year.

The irritated girl watched Rabastan, and his girlfriend throwing longing gazes at each other over the rims of their wine glasses, trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes. _Merlin, those two are on another level_. Rodolphus pointedly cleared his throat as the couple started whispering sweet words to each other, and the pair immediately turned their attention back to their own plates.

"So... Gryffindor hm? How did you end up there, Hermione?" The girl in question stiffened at the woman's words, her memories of the fight with Rodolphus still fresh in her mind. She finished eating her dessert before looking at her uncle's pretty pureblood girlfriend. Never in her life had she met a posher woman than Loreen Mulciber, well maybe except for Narcissa Malfoy. Rabastans girlfriend was the polar opposite of the man with her silky golden hair and bright eyes, that seemed to judge whomever they were currently looking at.

"Well, I guess the hat thought me to look prettier in red than green," Hermione answered sweetly, awkwardly joining the woman in her pretentious giggling.

She could feel Rodolphus and his brother watching her every move, with the younger Lestrange brother ready to come to his beloved defence, should Hermione decide to tire of the woman's constant chatter and do something more drastic than using sarcasm with the simple-minded chit.

She couldn't blame the man, really, seeing how many arguments turned duels he had to break up between herself and Rodolphus at this table, it was no wonder that he got nervous around the two. Still, Hermione enjoyed his discomfort immensely, seeing as it was ultimately his fault, that she had to play happy family with them for his beloved Loreen.

"Aren't you just the cutest thing! I'm sure the boys at Hogwarts are falling over their feet to go out with you." At the woman's supposedly funny comment, Hermione nearly choked on her water.

"I'm eleven, boys are just gross." Trying to act her age, she shot Rabastan a nasty glance. If the woman continued to bother her, she'd actually lose her mind.

"Of course they are sweetie, but they'll get better with age just like wine, believe me." She giggled again.

Hermione felt like throwing her plate at the silly woman. Why were all the women in this era so…dim-witted? _Maybe I'm just hanging out with the wrong crowd. I bet Minerva's Mother would rather eat a broom than letting her husband treat her like a five-year-old_.

"I'm finished, may I leave the table Rod-father?" She nearly pleaded.

It was obvious that the man was just as done with this whole ordeal as herself. He looked at her with a calculating expression on his freshly shaven face, contemplating if he felt generous enough to let the girl off the hook. After a few nerve-wracking seconds, he finally nodded.

Hermione flashed him a grateful smile before saying goodbye to Loreen and basically running from the dining room...

* * *

"Merlin, where did Rabastan find this woman?" Hermione murmured as she peeled herself out of her stuffy black dress, throwing the ugly thing to the far back of her room.

"Does Missy want Winny to run her a bath?" Hermione looked at the timid house-elf standing at the foot of her bed, once again overcome with guilt.

"How are you doing Winny? I'm so sorry for what I did." Hermione stammered as she inspected the now clean sheet the elf was wearing.

"Winny is fine, don't worry Miss Hermione. Winny is glad that Master punished Winny instead of Missy." Hermione felt like crying at the elf's kind words, hoping that she one day could forgive herself for what Rodolphus had made her do.

She didn't want the elf to know, that with his actions, Rodolphus had punished Hermione more than any actual physical harm could have ever done. "If you need anything please tell me, Winny. I still feel awful about what happened."

The elf's big ears twitched nervously at Hermione's offer, but Winny still smiled kindly at her young Mistress. "Winny will! But now Missy really needs to take a bath. Up, up!" The elf ushered the spluttering girl into the bathroom and proceeded to fill the bathtub with the most amazing smelling oils before forcing Hermione out of her underwear and into the hot water.

"Thanks for everything Winny. I really appreciate it." She whispered.

The elf nodded good-heartedly before apparating from the room and leaving the young girl to her own thoughts…

* * *

 **Thanks for all the lovely reviews I really appreciate them xoxo**


	4. 1st Year - Part II

**March 1939**

Hermione Lestrange was on a mission. The young girl slammed the old tome she had been reading shut, frustration clearly written all over her tired face.

"How in Merlin's name isn't there anything useful in any of these?" She murmured while shuffling through her notes again. After her return to Hogwarts, Hermione had started to investigate how they had ended up in the past. The extensive book collection of her beloved school not helping her in the least.

 _What am I supposed to do now_? Chewing on her dry lips, Hermione started packing all her belongings back into her bag, frustrated by how little she had accomplished in the past three months.

"Oy Lestrange, did your friends finally decide to ditch you for their lousy Gryffindork housemates?" Startled by the sudden noise, Hermione nearly hexed the noisy Slytherin standing a few feet away from her.

Rolling her eyes at the older boy, she discreetly slid her wand back into her robe. "It might've slipped your notice Rosier, but I'm a Gryffindor as well." Grabbing her bag, Hermione was on her way out when the boy spoke up again.

"Yeah, but not a real one. You're just there 'cause you want to provoke your old man." Rosier knew precisely how to push the girl's buttons after months of continuous bickering between the two.

"Oh shut it, Rosier, I don't have time for this right now." She tried to get around the smirking boy, who in turn tripped the younger girl, laughing as she managed to catch herself before falling right onto her face.

"Why, you stupid-" Before she could finish her sentence, Rosier interrupted her.

"As fun as this whole thing is, I actually need to talk to you, Lestrange." Rosier drawled, observing his schoolmate's reaction.

Hermione furrowed her brows at the boy's sudden change in behaviour not entirely sure what to make of this development. All her conversations with Rosier had been less than pleasant so far. "What could you possibly want from me, you hate me." She stated matter of factly.

"It's about Riddle, Abraxas told me about what he can do. You know, speaking to snakes and stuff."

"…And stuff?" She mocked, used to them throwing petty comments at each other's heads instead of having an actual conversation.

"Don't be a brat, Lestrange, I'm older than you so show some respect."

Hermione scoffed at his words, pressing her books even closer to her chest. "In your dreams. What is it that you want to talk about exactly?"

Rosier nervously looked around, checking if they were alone. "I think he's the heir of Slytherin." Actually, impressed by his deduction skills, Hermione pursed her lips. _What am I supposed to tell him now? He's pretty smart for a second-year student…Or maybe Malfoy just actually tells him everything_.

"And?" She finally asked.

"If he really is Slytherin's descendant and not some Mudblood, then I need to get into his good graces." He answered, folding his hands behind his back.

"Why do you care about such things?" Hermione scoffed, surprised that someone his age, Slytherin or not, could already be that superficial.

"Why wouldn't I? Connections are everything in this world."

She snickered at his last words, not sure if she had heard him right just now. "Really now? I'm currently the only heir to the Lestrange fortune, and my family belongs to the sacred twenty-eight. By your terms, we should be best friends then."

Rosier just rolled his eyes at her teasing. "You're a blood traitor, who doesn't know her place in this world. So, you're definitely not a valuable asset in my books."

"And still you're standing here right now, asking me for help." She snapped back.

"Yes, because Abraxas told me, you know Riddle better than anyone else for whatever reason. What else am I supposed to do?" He hissed, barely being able to contain his frustration at her constant jabs.

"You know, I don't really want to tell you anything about Riddle, so why don't you just leave me alone already?" Hermione said, tossing her hair back and turning around. "See you later, Rosier!" She chirped, knowing the boy wouldn't cause a ruckus to stop her from leaving, with Madame Pince sitting just a few rows away from them...

* * *

 **June 1939**

"So, even though they can do magic, witches are forbidden from getting their own Gringotts Vault? And here I thought you people were ahead of Muggle Society." Taken aback by Riddles surprisingly progressive statement, Hermione tried rather unsuccessfully to think of a proper answer, but Malfoy was faster.

"Witches are not meant to handle their own money. They'd just spend it on trivial things." Hermione's eyebrows shot up at Malfoy's insulting comment.

Slamming her elbows a little harder than it was necessary onto the table, she tutted at the blonde boy. The three of them were sitting far from prying eyes at the very back of the library. Putting her chin in her folded hands, Hermione openly glared at the blond boy in front of her.

"Care to elaborate on that statement Abraxas?" It was the first time Hermione had used the boy's first name to address him, and she could practically see him sweat dropping at her sweet tone.

"Well, not you, of course. But you're not a girl-girl you know?" From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Riddle lean back in his chair, smirking at his housemate's impending demise.

She was seriously tempted to snap at the boy for finding this whole thing funny. "As a matter of fact, I'm a girl Abraxas. And I don't appreciate you talking about girls as if we are stupid." Hermione said through clenched teeth, fed up with the constant chauvinism she had to deal with in this era. It was getting ridiculous.

"It's a fact that witches are not as strong as wizards Les- Hermione. Even you can't deny that." Abraxas continued to argue much to Riddles apparent amusement. At his silent snickering, Hermione turned to face the quiet boy, daring him to speak his mind.

"Abraxas is right. Most witches are pretty useless regarding advanced spellwork." Hermione forcefully reminded herself, that she had to retain at least a certain amount of decorum in her role as the eleven-year-old daughter of a pureblood supremacist. _Later. I can deal with this when we're all a little older_.

"To be honest, I'm too annoyed to continue this conversation any further right now." Hermione unfolded her hands and pushed back her chair.

"I need to finish one of my assignments. See you two next week." She spoke through clenched teeth, swallowing her pride while gracing the two boys with a forced smile. _If Rodolphus could see me now, he'd lose it for sure_. _Me actually acting how I'm supposed to_! Hermione involuntary shuddered at the thought of the crazed man. _I can speak up to those two more in the future, now I'm just a little girl who experienced way too much freedom in her upbringing and Riddle and Abraxas are just repeating what society told them is right and proper, they don't know any better_.

"Don't be angry, Hermione, I'm sorry." Abraxas pleaded with the irked girl, but Hermione had enough of those two for the remainder of the week.

"Until next Wednesday then, don't be late again Lestrange," Riddle spoke from his seat and Hermione had to suppress the urge to flip the boy off. _Dark Lord my Ass. As of now, Riddle is nothing more than a little brat with a superiority complex_...

* * *

Hermione didn't know how, but she had somehow managed to survive her first year at Hogwarts without any significant incidents. Compared to her first year in the future, her school life here was pretty uneventful.

"Only two more weeks and we're finally free! I can't wait to get home and play some Quidditch again." Charlus Potter grinned giddily.

Hermione raised her brows at the boy's overwhelming enthusiasm, feeling something akin to jealousy at her friend's excitement to go home. _I'd rather spend the summer with Riddle at the orphanage than with the Lestranges. Merlin two whole months, I don't know if I can keep my mouth shut for that long anymore._

"Promise that you'll come to visit Minny! You too, Hermione." The Potter heir looked at them expectantly, but while Minerva eagerly agreed to visit the boy, Hermione just smiled apologetically, playing with the food on her plate.

"I'll have to ask my father, but I'll try my best Charlus." Noticing the sombre mood of the girl, her two friends hurriedly turned their conversation away from Hermione's family life. She appreciated their efforts but couldn't stop herself from thinking about all the awful things that might happen for the rest of their dinner.

When everyone was finished, Hermione excused herself from the table and made her way up to the library. Hands balled into pale fists she nearly ran towards her sanctuary, feeling her heartbeat quicken with every step she took. Entering the quiet library, Hermione was relieved to see, that Madame Pince had already retired to her rooms.

With practised ease, she manoeuvred through a few narrow aisles before plopping down on one of the two armchairs that were perfectly hidden in a corner right between two tall bookshelves. _Why am I feeling so miserable right now_? Hermione tried to control her erratic breathing, irritated with her mind's unexpected state of panic.

"Merlin it's just the holidays Mione." She whispered to herself, but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Rodolphus' cruel smile, ordering her to hurt Winny.

Hermione was no stranger to painful flashback's, but until now she had either Harry or Ron to lift her back up when she was feeling down, here she only had herself. _And that clearly isn't enough_. For a second, she contemplated telling Minerva what was plaguing her mind but quickly decided against it. She wouldn't understand. _She's a child. I don't want to burden her with my worries_.

Looking down at her trembling hands, Hermione was once again reminded, that she was not an adult anymore. Her mind might've been that of a young woman, but her body most certainly was not, and her brain just couldn't keep up with the constant mental and physical strains she was put under.

She had been with the Lestranges for nearly two years now, and it had started to take its toll on her mind as well as her body. Hermione was aware that even though she didn't suffer from the same kind of breakdowns she had to deal with when she had first arrived in this time, she was still not ok. Not at all. For all she tried to adapt to her new life in this era, she was still struggling. Some nights, she still prayed to wake up in her old body and just pretend that her life with the Lestranges here was nothing but a bad dream, a habit that was becoming more and more unhealthy the longer she was in this era.

"I cannot do this for another fifty years." Hot tears were blurring Hermione's vision, but she refused to cry again. _Get a grip, things could be much worse_. She tried to tell herself, but it was of no use.

"I just want to see Harry and Ron again, is this really too much to ask?" Shivering, she pulled her robes closer to her body. She had been okay for so many weeks, why did she have to revert back to her pathetic pre-Hogwarts self again? Hermione did not want to return home in a fortnight. The thought of having to pretend to be the charming, pretty daughter for Rabastan's fiancé made her physically ill. _I can't do that, not for two whole months_.

Loreen Mulciber stood for everything Hermione tried not to be in this world. The perfect pureblood heiress with nothing but her name and money to boast with. No ambitions besides making a good match and having a bunch of little heirs to the family name. It was a shame, really.

Sighing, she rubbed her tired eyes, slowly calming down again, her thoughts not continually spiralling down the deep, dark rabbit hole that was her life anymore.

"Lestrange? What are you doing here?" Hermione jumped at Evan Rosier's sudden appearance in her safe-space.

Digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to stop herself from drawing her wand, she wiped the tale-telling wet trails off her face, most definitely not wanting the boy to see her cry.

"I could ask you the same Rosier." She replied frostily.

"I heard someone talking over here, so I wanted to see who it was." The boy took notice of Hermione's dishevelled form and puffy eyes but wisely decided not to tease the irritated girl any further.

"Well, now that you found out why don't you just leave me alone again. I'm not in the mood for company."

"...Do you wanna talk about it?" He finally asked, distinctly uncomfortable but his proper upbringing preventing him from leaving a crying girl to herself.

Hermione scoffed at his words before slowly shaking her head.

"No, I don't, so please leave." _Merlin, how does this boy always manage to find me at the most inconvenient times_?

"Don't be a brat, Lestrange, I'm still a year older than you so watch your tone." Noticing his twitching lips at her apparent ire, she felt her tense form relaxing ever so slightly.

Hermione huffed at the boy's pathetic attempts to distract her from her sullen mood. "Did anyone ever tell you how annoying you are, Rosier?"

"Says the pot calling the kettle black." He replied grinning, but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"You're older so you should act accordingly, not going around bullying little girls like myself." She said flippantly while crossing her legs on her spacious seat.

"'You're a nosy know-it-all that happens to hang out around my housemates suspiciously often, you're just the perfect target," Hermione watched his annoyingly perfect curls fall into his face as he threw his head back laughing at Hermione's irritated face. _Merlin, this boy is too pretty for his own good_. She sneakily stole another glance at him. _Didn't Abraxas say he turned thirteen last week_? _I need to stop thinking about this boy until he's at least legal. Eleven-year-old hormones be damned; this is just plain disturbing_.

Hermione was aware that her body was inching closer towards hitting puberty at an alarming rate. She was certain that her irritating mood-swings would get even worse over the next years. Going up against a dark lord seemed like a piece of cake compared to having to go through that mortifyingly awkward phase of her life again. At least she didn't have her period until she turned thirteen in her past life.

"So, wanna tell me now why you're crying alone in the library?" Rosier asked quietly, with a sombre expression on his face.

Hermione scrunched up her nose at his persistence before finally giving in, turning her gaze to the ground. She couldn't tell Minerva about her worries, but Rosier seemed like a good alternative. He came from a somewhat similar background, and she was not actually friends with him, so after tonight, they could just both go their separate ways and never talk about this evening ever again.

"I'm just not that happy about having to go home in a few weeks." Hermione began, still not looking at the Slytherin besides her.

"Abraxas probably told you, that I'm not…on good terms with my father most of the time." Playing with the sleeves of her robe, she struggled to put her thoughts into words. It felt weird to actually talk about her personal life with another person.

"Yeah, but who really is? Parents can be quite overbearing sometimes." Rosier joked lightly in an attempt to make Hermione feel more comfortable. It did not work that much if she was honest.

"I know, but it's just that-" The words seemed to be stuck in her throat.

"Does he hit you?" Rosier's low voice caught Hermione off guard.

He seemed to interpret her stunned expression as fear and began rubbing his neck, clearly feeling uncomfortable with her silence.

"I'm sorry Lestrange, I know it's not that uncommon but still…I know it's terrifying, my father is the same."

Suddenly feeling sorry for the boy- no child, Hermione corrected herself, she was appalled by how poorly some wizarding families seemed to treat their own children. The thought that Rosier had to grow up in a household like that was horrifying. Her own worries wholly forgotten, Hermione felt her heart going out to the boy. Never would she have thought, that she would one day sit down with Rosier and talk about their shared childhood trauma. _Such a great topic to break the ice_. Hermione thought sarcastically before focussing her attention back on Rosier.

"Well since I've gotten my wand, it's more of a duel-over-dinner situation with father and me but still-." She tried to joke and to her relieve Rosier's face lost some of its seriousness.

"That sounds like something only you'd do Lestrange." He smiled genuinely at her for what felt like the first time since Hermione had met him a year ago.

She was again taken aback at how pretty Rosier actually was. With his golden curls and green eyes, he was the complete opposite of Riddle. Hermione stopped herself from continuing her thoughts, mentally slapping herself. _Merlin, I'm turning into Lavender Brown_.

"But still, it must be bad if even the brave Hermione Lestrange hides in the library, crying her eyes out." Rosier murmured.

"This is a one-time thing, I just got a little overwhelmed at dinner," Hermione replied with a strained voice that didn't even convince herself. Nervously gnawing on her chapped lips, she tried to put on her brave Gryffindor face.

"Sure, do your friends know about all this?" He asked, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, and it will stay like that. They don't have to worry about something that I can't change anyway." She said with a finality that left no room for arguments.

"Potter's bleeding Gryffindor heart would probably cause him to do something stupid like telling his parents, and that would just lead to more problems for you at home." He said teasingly, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Father would hex me into oblivion if the ministry sent some people over." Shuddering at the thought, she hastily tried to push down the apprehension that was blossoming in her chest.

"I'm sorry I treated you so poorly Hermione, I had no idea how bad you actually had it," Rosier answered with something akin to regret in his voice.

Surprised, Hermione looked over to the fidgeting boy. "Did you just call me by my first name, Rosier? How inappropriately forward of you." She mocked with a scandalised expression on her face, her hands clutching her heart in pretend shock.

The Slytherin laughed at her exaggerated reaction. "After a year of courting, I think I've earned that right…Hermione."

She gasped at the boy's cheek. "If you think pulling a girl's hair counts as flirting, I pity the woman that has to marry you someday, Rosier." She teased, still smiling.

"You're still too young to understand, Lestrange, give it two years, and you'll fall for my irresistible charm as well."

"Keep dreaming Rosier, you're way too posh for my liking." She answered, her previous worries all but forgotten.

"I'm handsome, filthy rich and a pureblood. What else could a witch ever want in a man?" He asked with an air of superiority around him.

"I'm just going to become a successful witch myself and not get married at all."

Rosier sceptically raised an eyebrow. "Sure thing, Hermione, whatever you say. I'm glad you at least stopped crying." He finished on a more serious note, and Hermione smiled gratefully at him.

"Thanks, Ro- Evan, seems like I really just needed someone to talk to about all this." Hermione was honestly surprised how good she felt after just talking with someone without worries, well as worry-free as her peculiar situation allowed.

She liked Minerva and Charlus a lot, but there were just so many aspects of her personal life she could not share with them at this point and maybe never at all. She had to keep all her bad feelings to herself, which was most definitely not healthy for her mental state.

"No worries, people like us need to stick together." He looked down at Hermione's questioning gaze and sighed. "From the few things you actually told me, I gather that your father is pretty bad as well. Without a mother, it's most likely us that'll take the full brunt of their temper, and that sucks."

Hermione nodded in agreement before fully realising what Evan had said. "Wait, where's your mother?"

"Ran away with her muggle lover when I was four, father tried to bring her back, but he still hasn't found her 'till this day." He said bitterly, apparently not feeling anything even remotely positive towards his mother.

"I'm so sorry, Evan." The boy laughed bitterly at Hermione's words.

"We come from surprisingly similar backgrounds if you think about it. Everyone knows your mother left you at your father's doorstep as a baby." Hermione cringed at his comment about her supposed life story that Rodolphus had fabricated.

"Where did everyone even get this information?" She groaned.

"News travels fast if you're the last scion of one of the sacred twenty-eight," Rosier unexpectedly leaned over to her, ruffling the surprised girl's tangled hair. "That hair of yours is a disaster Hermione, would it be so hard to brush it sometimes?"

Speechless at his words, she slapped his hovering hand away. "You can't just touch a girl's hair out of the blue or insult said hair for that matter, Rosier!" She pouted, irritated at the boy's shifting behaviour. One moment he could be talking about serious things and the next he'd tease her again. It was infuriating.

"Come on, just because we're bonding over our sad childhoods, doesn't mean I have to stop teasing you. That's what makes our relationship so special."

"You're a prick, Rosier. Why am I even bothering with you?" She huffed before turning her gaze to the small watch on her wrist. Not wanting to be caught out and about past the curfew, she stood up, pulling her dark robe closer to her body.

"It's getting late, I don't want to get in trouble so let's go." She gestured for him to get up as well.

When they reached the library doors, Hermione turned around again, regarding the boy standing a few feet behind her with a tentative smile.

"Thanks for the company Rosier but I think it's best if we keep this whole thing to ourselves." _I don't want Riddle to know about us being on friendly terms now. He'll surely use it against me at some point_. She finished in her mind.

"Of course, I can't be seen getting all lovey-dovey with a little Gryffindork after all." He answered nonchalantly causing Hermione to lightly punch his arm.

"Why do you always have to be so…urgh!" Frustrated with the boy's teasing, she threw her arms in the air before turning on her heels.

"Bye, Hermione! I'll visit over the holidays for sure." He called after Hermione and horrified at his words she vehemently shook her head.

"Don't you dare to show your ugly face at my place. You'd just ruin my well-deserved holidays." And with that she left, all her worries from a few hours ago completely forgotten…

* * *

"We're free, finally!" Charlus Potter sprang up from his seat, eagerly pushing down the window of their carriage as the red train slowly came to a halt at King's Cross station.

Hermione slowly put her belongings back into her small trunk, the book she had been reading sitting neatly on top of her summer coat. She was wearing her familiar but slightly too short, black robes again, and looked forward to letting Winny readjust them, the tight skirt making it hard to move around comfortably.

"I can see my parents over there. Look Minny that's them, the woman with the big blue hat is my mom." Charlus pulled their grumpy friend to the window, pointing at some point in the large crowd of waiting parents and relatives.

"I can't wait for you to meet them. My mother is really excited that I made some female friends at last." Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds to mentally prepare herself to meet the Lestranges again. _I wrote to him once a week, Riddle is making a lot of progress, and I even invited him over. Rodolphus will not hurt me_ …

* * *

"Bye Mione, maybe we'll bump into each other in the village some time," Minerva told her, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

The young witch took a deep breath, trying to burn the faint smell of ink and old parchment into her memory. As much as she wished she could, she probably wouldn't see her friends for two whole months.

"I'll see if I can find some time. See you guys later!" She watched her two friends disappear into the crowd.

"Hermione, dear, over here!" At the familiar sweet voice of Loreen Mulciber, Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment to push back the annoyance that was quickly engulfing her rational mind. _What is this woman doing here_?

Hermione forced herself to smile before swiftly turning around. "Mademoiselle Mulciber what a pleasant surprise to see you here. You too, Uncle." She pushed her trunk into Rabastans waiting hands as hard as she could, satisfied, when she saw the man staggering a little.

She turned her attention back from her traitorous relative back to his fiancée with a stretched smile. "Thanks for picking me up, I really appreciate it." She watched Loreen glow under her future niece's approval, eager to prove herself to the Lestranges. They apparated back to the manor where Hermione immediately fled to her rooms not wanting to face Rodolphus any sooner than she had to.

"Missy is back!" Hermione nearly suffered a small heart attack when her favourite elf suddenly appeared in front of her just as she had closed her door.

"Winny I'm so happy to see you again, I missed you a lot." Hermione grabbed the startled elf's bony hands and pulled Winny with her to her wardrobe.

"I need you to help me readjust all of my robes. I've grown quite a bit over the past year." She rambled, excited to finally have her elf with her again.

Winny had been her first friend in this time, and to Hermione, the little creature was more like family than a servant.

"Winny will do her best to make Missy's robes look pretty again." Hermione beamed at the elf's words and readily held her arms up so that Winny could easily adjust everything. With a simple snap of her fingers, the elf dressed Hermione and began working on the robes…

* * *

Dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair. Hermione quietly enjoyed her pumpkin soup, watching her uncle and his girlfriend, no fiancée, Hermione corrected herself, discussing some trivial matters while her father just silently ate his meal, occasionally rolling his eyes when Loreen said something especially ridiculous.

"After dinner, I want to discuss some things with you, Hermione. Meet me in my study." And there went her pleasant dinner. Hermione just nodded and tried to think about what he could possibly punish her for now. She'd done everything he asked for and more!

A while after Rodolphus had left the table, Hermione had finished as well, excusing herself from the remaining two people at the table.

"See you next Week Hermione, Rabastan and I are going to visit my Aunt Hestia in Kent tomorrow," Loreen chirped, causing Hermione to turn pale.

Rabastan, who had noticed her freezing up at his beloved' words, tried to calm Hermione. "My brother is quite satisfied with your overall performance, so don't worry."

Hermione looked at the man as if he had suddenly grown a second head, not used to someone in this household being kind to her. She proceeded to furrow her brows, searching for any deceit in his eyes. When she found nothing, she gave him a curt nod before leaving for her father's study.

She purposefully took her sweet time, looking at some grand portraits in the entrance hall for a while, before climbing up the stairs to the room that she had only ever associated with pain and tears…

* * *

"Took you long enough, sit down, girl." Rodolphus sat on one of the leather couches at the right end of his study.

She carefully stepped into the room, nearly expecting him to suddenly get up and start throwing hexes at her.

"I'm surprised, Hermione. You're actually quite useful when you're trying." Rodolphus sipped on his drink before leaning a little forward, holding his glass lazily in one hand and a bundle of letters, which Hermione immediately recognised as her own, in his other.

"I'm trying my best, Rodolphus." She hid her clammy hands in the folds of her black robe, not wanting the man to see her fidgeting under his piercing gaze.

He had forgone the clean-shaven face that was typical for this era in the privacy of his home, instead sporting a dark beard like he did when she had first seen him during the war. It was an unsettling sight.

"As you should. When did our Lord want to visit?" Hermione shuddered at the man's excited gaze, not liking his involvement in Riddles life at all.

"He'll stay for a few days during my birthday week in September." Rodolphus nodded deep in thought, probably already planning all the fun things he'd do with his precious dark lord like hunting some poor muggles or whatever that man thought was suitable.

"You're turning twelve this year, right? I want you to invite some of his other friends too so that he feels more comfortable here." Hermione wanted to protest, but one look at the half-empty whiskey bottle on the side table beside her father made her keep her mouth shut. A drunk maniacal Rodolphus was much harder to talk to than a sober one, and Hermione decided to try to get out of this, or at least be allowed to invite maybe Charlus and Minerva over in exchange for her cooperation, another day.

"I understand. Is there anything else?" She carefully watched the man as he narrowed his eyes at her polite voice.

"Scared that I'll lose my temper 'cause I had a few drinks, daughter?" Hermione winced at his hostility, not sure how to answer his question.

"I was married to Bellatrix Black; half a bottle was barely enough to tolerate that woman. You should start getting worried after I finish that one."

"I'll remember that. Can I go now?" She asked again after a few minutes of silence.

"I want you to write me a list of all the people that you're inviting over by tomorrow evening. You can leave now." Hermione nodded quickly before rushing out of the study and back to her bedroom…

* * *

 **September 1939**

Hermione didn't know what she was dreading more. Rosier coming over a few days earlier than Riddle, said future dark lord coming to her birthday party or the fact that she had to play hostess to Riddles inner circle, just so that Rodolphus could meddle with the future big times.

The past weeks had been exhausting enough, and she didn't know how she was supposed to keep up a somewhat pleasant appearance this week. Her request to invite her friends over had been denied repeatedly, and after much arguing and even sometimes crying on her part, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She had spent most of her time in the gardens, enjoying the warm summer breeze and admiring the colourful flowers.

Hermione also had been trying to find some clues about why they were sent back to this era in the private Library of her family, but all she had found out was, that the Lestranges were way too interested in dark magic and forbidden rituals.

She was currently sitting on one of the benches in a more secluded part of the estate's surrounding lands when Winny appeared in front of her.

"The young Master Rosier has just arrived. Missy should greet the Mister." Sighing Hermione shut her book about magic-use in the middle ages and followed her elf back to the house as she still wasn't allowed to apparate.

"Hermione! How are you?" She found Rosier standing with her much too happy looking father in one of the larger sitting rooms of the house.

Dropping into a small curtsy, she greeted the two. "I'm good, how about you? Thanks for accepting my invitation, Ro-Evan." Her smile was just a little too bright to be real. They both knew that she hadn't written to him because she wanted to, and somehow that made her feel less wary about his presence in her home.

"I'm well. You have a beautiful house, Mister Lestrange." He said to Rodolphus who in turn clapped Rosier's shoulders with a satisfied huff.

"Feel free to explore the manor boy, Hermione will gladly show you around." He glanced at the scowling girl, daring her to object his order but she kept quiet. After years of living with the man, she knew when to keep her mouth shut…Most of the time.

"That's very generous of you Mister Lestrange, I'll come back to that for sure." The older man nodded, eventually dismissing the children after a few more minutes of exchanging pleasantries.

Relieved to finally get away from her father, Hermione eagerly grabbed Rosier's wrist and pulled him away with her. Sitting down on the soft blanket Winny had conjured on one of the green hills a little further away from the manor, Hermione leaned back on her hands, before grabbing one of the sandwiches from a small silver tray beside her.

"I forgot how… wealthy your family actually is. You always look so scrawny with that hair of yours." Hermione scoffed at his words but continued to nibble on her snack instead of arguing back.

"I was surprised when your owl landed on my windowsill. But after meeting your old man today, I can see why you'd rather invite me over than deal with him." He said while picking one of the sandwiches as well.

Hermione, still not being used to someone knowing about her family's issues, furrowed her brows at his words. "Did he say something before I arrived?" She asked, and Rosier nodded.

"He told me about how I reminded him of an old friend with a really creepy look on his face. I mean who says that to someone they just met?" She snickered at his incredulous voice but didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she looked up at the sky and watched the clouds passing by for a moment. "He can be pretty intense, as long as you play nice, he'll do as well, though." She finally spoke without looking at the blond boy next to her in fear of what he might see in her eyes.

"I can do that for sure. But anyway, when are the others coming? I know Abraxas is arriving the day after tomorrow but what about the rest?"

Hermione pressed her lips together in a thin line at the mention of the Malfoy heir. "Well, Riddle said he'd be here tomorrow, and Dolohov will arrive the same day as Malfoy."

When she didn't continue, Rosier looked at her questioningly. "What about your Gryffindor friends?"

"A Halfblood and a blood traitor are not the kind of company my father wishes me to keep." She answered, the words leaving her with a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

The Slytherin looked at Hermione with pity clearly written all over his face, and she had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the boy's reaction. "Well, that sucks. But why is Riddle coming then? Did you tell your father about the heir of Slytherin thing as well?"

Surprised that she didn't think of that explanation herself, Hermione simply agreed. "He's just trying to get to him before it's official and the other families want to have a piece of him as well." Relieved that Rosier seemed to buy her explanation.

The two of them continued to talk about the most trivial things for a few hours before Winny eventually called them to dinner, and the two children eagerly went back inside…

* * *

"You must be Tom Riddle. What a great pleasure to finally meet the boy who can keep up with my daughter at school." Hermione watched Rodolphus enthusiastically shake Riddle's hand, never having seen such a happy expression on the former death eaters face.

She felt Goosebumps forming on her arms at the sight of the crazed man smiling at her schoolmate. She was standing next to Evan a few feet away from the pair, waiting for Rodolphus to call on them as it was custom.

"Hermione, Evan, I will leave Mister Riddle to you two until dinner, I have to attend an important meeting at the Ministry." Hermione watched her father throwing some floo powder into their fireplace, before signalling Riddle to follow her and Rosier, not bothering to greet the boy properly now that Rodolphus was gone.

"Let's sit down in one of the sitting rooms, Winny will make us some snacks." She guided her two visitors through the seemingly endless corridors of the manor until they arrived in a bright, cosy room at the back of the house, overlooking the vast gardens of the estate.

She watched Riddle look around the room with an unreadable expression. "With the way you talk and dress, it's easy to forget your privileged upbringing." He finally said. Rosier tried to hide his snort by coughing into his arm.

Hermione felt her cheeks growing hot at Riddles words, still not being used to her future arch-nemesis cracking jokes on her behalf. "Not you too Riddle, Evan has been giving me enough about this already." Irritated by the two boys rude behaviour, she fumbled with the hem of her robe.

"It is quite hilarious if you think about it. With you always running around defending your Mudblood housemates while coming from a family like this yourself." Riddle took a seat next to Rosier, pointedly ignoring Hermione's furious gasp at his words.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand Riddle and let Hermione be." Rosier suddenly spoke up sharply.

Surprised at the boy's defensive words, the young witch turned to look at the boy in question. Riddle seemed to be slightly taken aback as well, carefully watching his housemate next to him. "Oh, since when are you two so friendly with each other?" He finally asked, his calculating gaze turning to Hermione.

"We're not, Riddle. He's just a mindful guest." She answered curtly before taking another sip from the tea Winny had quietly served when they had entered the room.

Riddle just pursed his lips, clearly not buying her excuse. "I see. I'm sorry if I have offended you in any way, Lestrange."

She narrowed her eyes at Riddles apologetic behaviour, unsure of how to act around the boy. She was certain that he wouldn't forget hers and Rosiers words for a while.

"No worries Riddle, let's talk about something else alright?" Soon after that, the three of them ended up in a heated discussion over the rights of magical creatures…

* * *

"Happy Birthday Hermione, I hope you liked the present I got you." Antonin Dolohov came to a halt in front of the blushing girl, expertly putting her hand in his, blowing a light kiss on the back.

Hermione knew that this custom was alive and well in the upper circles of wizarding society, but it still didn't make the whole thing any less awkward for her. Clearing her throat before thanking the boy for his present Hermione tried to get rid of the warmth in her cheeks by drinking some water. They were all sitting at the large dining table, enjoying dinner, chatting about school and other things.

"Oy Lestrange, are your father and uncle not home?" Abraxas Malfoy asked from his seat next to hers, causing Hermione to scowl.

"They're at my uncles' fiancées house to discuss some important matters. Probably how many chests of galleons that woman comes with if she marries my Uncle." She murmured into her glass, still not happy about this marriage.

Not only would Rabastan probably leave her on her own with his mad brother to start his own family, but he'd also bring that awful woman with him every time he would visit them.

"Ah yes, I heard from my father that the Mulciber daughter is finally tying the knot. Her parents were starting to get worried she'd never settle down." Abraxas said with a thoughtful expression, his index finger resting on his lips.

"Really? She's only what, twenty-four?" Hermione scooped up another bite of her delicious chocolate pudding.

"That's really old Lestrange. Normally people from our background get married right after we finish school." Hermione nearly choked on her dessert at the blonde boy's words not having expected, people actually walking down the aisle that early.

Rosier, who had listened in to their conversation, laughed at Hermione's shocked face before speaking up as well. "Most of us are betrothed to someone since birth, Hermione. Something like what your parents did in France would be unthinkable here." Hermione was unsure if he was referring to them having a child while still being in school or having her out of wedlock. _Probably both_. She shrugged at the boy and continued her dessert.

"I still think that getting married this early is unwise. Even more so if you don't really love that person." Abraxas rolled his eyes at Hermione's statement, rudely pointing his fork at her face.

"Oh come on, we all know the only reason you're not already engaged to Rosier over there is that your father is waiting for a better offer."

Hermione threw Malfoy a nasty glare. "Why do you think it'd be Rosier and not someone back on the continent?" She asked with a sweet smile causing the Malfoy scion to gulp.

"'Cause my father asked yours a few months ago. Our families have always been close in the past." Rosier chimed in.

The shattering of Hermione's cutlery onto her plate, made the whole table turn silent. "Say what now?" Her sizzling hair betraying her calm demeanour.

"My old man just doesn't want another Parkinson or Bullstrode on our family tree. Don't look so angry, it's not as if your father has already agreed." Rosier snapped back, but Hermione didn't really listen. _I'll murder him if he thinks he can just marry me off to some death eater kid_.

"Lestrange, are you listening?" She heard Malfoy ask next to her, but she was still fuming at the audacity of her father.

She was brought back from her fantasies of killing that man in any imaginable way by someone lightly shaking her shoulder. Malfoy was looking questioningly at her with the others around the table looking equally unsure. Except for Riddle of course. He just continued his meal as if Hermione hadn't just nearly smashed every glass on the table with her crackling magic.

"I'm sorry Malfoy I just needed a moment. Please, everyone, finish your meal." She spoke sweetly, picking up her spoon again and resuming her dinner. Three out of the four boys around the table looking at her sceptically before eventually continuing their meals as well…

* * *

 _I'll kill him. Curse his sorry ass until he doesn't know up from down anymore_. Hermione sneered at everything and nothing in her chair in Rodolphus' study, waiting for the man to return from his trip. After dinner, Rosier, Malfoy and Dolohov had returned to their own homes leaving her alone with Riddle. Rosier had tried to talk to Hermione after the other two had already gone, but she had just brushed him off, apologising again for her rude behaviour. It was not his fault that their parents were both assholes that didn't care about what their children might think of their decisions.

She had left Riddle to his own device after showing him his room and went straight to her father's study, determined to wait for him. She eyed the countless piles of letters and other documents on his desk, contemplating if the risk of Rodolphus finding her going through his stuff was worth taking. Before she could decide the doors to the study opened again, and she turned around to face the man she had been waiting for.

"Well, that's new. Usually, you wouldn't enter this room without a wand pressed to your neck." He drawled while taking his coat off and throwing it into his own house elf's waiting hands. The creature bowed hastily before vanishing with a plop, leaving the two alone again.

"I need to talk to you about something." She started, but her father interrupted her before she could continue.

"Where's Riddle?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk.

She rolled her eyes at his words but answered nonetheless. "Probably in his room or the library. I told him to feel free to explore the house." She silently watched Rodolphus swing his wand to light the candles on the walls of the room, engulfing everything in a warm hue. The shadows under his eyes seemed to darken in the flickering lights, and Hermione felt herself tense up under his intense stare, all her previous courage suddenly forgotten.

"I see. Well then, what do you want?" He asked, and Hermione sat up a little straighter.

"Why didn't you tell me about the Rosiers proposal?" She hissed, watching Rodolphus lift a brow at her accusing tone.

"Because I chose not to. As long as you do your job, you don't have to worry about anything, my dear." He answered, his last words sounding more like a threat than anything else. She shivered when his cold eyes met her own and hurriedly looked away again.

"Why should I believe you? The moment Rabastan has a child, you'll get rid of me." Hermione felt resentment bubble up in her chest at the thought of the Lestranges replacing her.

"You're my only child, Killing you would be a waste." Rodolphus laughed bitterly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "When the time comes, and our Lord is finally Minister of Magic you'll either prove yourself useful in some way to him or-" He smirked at Hermione's horrified expression when she realised what he would be saying next. "Or at least bring the next generation of followers into this world at that Rosier boy's side."

She felt as if someone had pulled the floor from under her feet, glad that she was already sitting down. Her mind tried to comprehend what Rodolphus had just said, not believing that he'd go as low as selling her off to become some trophy wife to a death eater. Even if it was Rosier.

"You can't force me. I'll never agree to this!" She exclaimed, but Rodolphus just shrugged.

"Make sure to stay useful to Riddle, and I won't have to force you, but don't forget that with every act of defiance you're endangering your precious people in the future." Hermione grabbed her seat until all she could feel was the pain of the muscles in her fingers cramping up, trying to calm her erratic breathing. That man held all the power in their relationship, and he knew it.

While he had nothing to lose Hermione risked the lives of everyone she ever cared for in the future. The Weasleys, the Potters and her parents, he would hurt them all if she didn't listen to him and that made her just as angry as it was scaring her. _I'll find a way to stop him, but for now, I must play this game. Just a few more years_.

"I'll work hard then...father." Rodolphus nodded.

"One more thing, my brother is going to marry that dim-witted witch he fancies next summer so be prepared to visit a lot of people over Christmas." Hermione scowled at his words, irritated that Rabastan would leave her on her own in less than a year.

"I understand. I'll tell Winny to purchase some more formal robes." He nodded, effectively dismissing her with a short wave of his hand…

* * *

"I just don't think that Unicorn Hair would make any difference in that potion," Hermione argued while carefully stirring the bubbling liquid her and Riddle were brewing in the manor's kitchen.

The boy just scoffed at Hermione's words and proceeded to cut the flobberworms on the board before him into small slices. "It does. The base of the potion would change, making it last at least twice as long if you stir it long enough over a low flame." He unceremoniously dropped the worms into the cauldron, making Hermione in turn hiss at him when some of the purple liquid landed on her apron.

"Watch what you're doing Riddle, you're disturbing my stirring!" She shrieked, but the boy just snickered at her angry expression. Hermione finished up the potion by adding some of the unicorn hairs Riddle had rudely shoved into her face, looking purposefully doubtful at him while doing so.

"Told you so." She watched annoyed as the potion turned a lighter shade and a sweet scent started to permeate the air around them. _Why must he always be right_? She thought spitefully, annoyed that he was outdoing her by a small margin in every subject, even though she was technically seven years' worth of schooling ahead of him.

"Alright you win Riddle, I was wrong; happy now?" She knew she was acting childish right now, but her academic pride had been wounded continuously since she had met Riddle. And if Rodolphus' stories of his youth were to be believed, he wasn't even in his prime yet. According to him, when he was but a boy, Voldemort had been a young man whose magical prowess surpassed even the likes of wizards like Dumbledore and Grindelwald. _All that potential wasted on a person that is unable to feel compassion or love_.

Sometimes Hermione felt herself getting angry at Riddle and what great things he could have achieved if he hadn't been born a complete psychopath. It was truly a waste.

"I'll take some of the potions we brewed with me to the orphanage." Hermione looked back up to Riddle who was currently filling their project into small vials with a concentrated expression on his face.

His grey eyes narrowed at her when he noticed her sceptical gaze. "Don't be such a spoilsport. School's starting in a few days anyway and I just want to see how Muggles are affected by those potions." He put two of the vials into his backpack that one of the house-elves had brought down a while ago at his request.

"You can't just use those kids as your guinea pigs. It's unethical." Hermione argued, but Riddle didn't listen to her concerns.

"That whole place is unethical, you saw for yourself how bad it is." He answered curtly before taking off his own leather apron. Hermione didn't know what to respond to this statement, seeing as he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Still…" She began but was interrupted by Riddle.

"Leave it be, Lestrange, I'll not hurt anyone of them." She sighed in relieve at Riddles assuring words, feeling some of the anxiety leaving her body.

"I trust you, Riddle, please remember that." She said quietly, hoping that if she just told him often enough, he'd eventually listen to her opinion in the future as well when he rose to power.

She and her father saw Riddle off a little later in the evening, Rodolphus apparating with him back to London before returning home with a serene smile on his face that scared the crap out of Hermione.

"It's truly amazing how intelligent our Lord already is given his age. I can't wait for the day he takes over." Hermione had to suppress a shudder at her father's gleeful expression.

"As a reward for your hard work you may visit one of your Mudblood friends over the next Holidays if you keep it up." Hermione's eyes widened at her father's words.

She felt the excitement bubbling up in her stomach at the thought of spending a few days at Minerva's place. I _can finally meet her brothers she's always gushing about_. She felt a genuine smile stretching over her lips, nearly hugging the man in front of her out of habit, before quickly composing herself and reminding herself that he was not her real father and that his approval meant nothing to her. Even if her young mind was saying differently…

* * *

Rodolphus watched his young daughter practically skipping back to her rooms, satisfied with the progress he had made with the girl over the past two months. The potion was finally showing results if her reaction to his words was anything to go by. She had wanted to hug him; he had seen her internal struggle before collecting herself again, giving him a grateful smile instead.

"Winny!" He waited for the small elf to appear next to him before handing the creature a thin vial filled with a silver liquid.

"Continue to put some of this in every of my daughter's drinks. Make sure to tell your friends at the castle to do the same, that medicine is very important for Hermione." The girl's gullible elf took the vial with a serious expression before apparating away again. Rodolphus made his way back to his own chambers, a satisfied smile ghosting over his lips. Everything was going according to plan…

* * *

 **Tnx for all the kind reviews! Next chapter, Hermione will already enter her second year…Oh how time flies when you want to advance the plot xoxo**


	5. 2nd Year - Part I

**October 1939**

Never in her life would Hermione Granger have thought, that she'd have to make it through her second school year again; the fact that she had managed to survive this whole time-travel mess until now made her oddly proud of herself.

If Rodolphus was to be believed, she was, what would be considered a pureblood now, but that didn't stop her from staying true to her ideals.

Hermione had never heard of such strong magic, but she didn't know that much about blood magic to begin with. Something she decided to change this year, vowing to find out as much as possible about the spell Rodolphus had used. I _f he only provided me with his own blood, doesn't that mean that I'm basically one hundred percent Lestrange now_? _Wouldn't the Ministry ask questions if they tested my blood and found no trace of my supposed mother's blood_?

Unwilling to entertain these thoughts any further, Hermione shifted her attention back to her Professor at the front of the classroom. She was sitting next to Abraxas and Minerva in the first row, the two of them looking equally as bored as herself with the monotonous voice of their new Muggle Studies teacher droning over their heads.

"Muggles use something called the telephone to communicate with each other over far distances…" He held up a, to Hermione's eyes, historical device. The thing looked more like a microphone with strings attached to its ends, than what Hermione would consider a telephone.

Abraxas raised a brow as the Professor proceeded to put the phone down on their desk. "Does anyone here has a telephone at home?"

At the Professor's question, Hermione saw Minerva raise her hand, and was once again reminded that her future teacher was actually a half-blood herself.

"Ah Miss McGonagall, would you mind telling Mr Malfoy here your number and how one would operate this device?" Hermione heard some of the Slytherins snicker at their Professor's request.

"Of course, it's actually pretty simple." Minerva proceeded to explain to a very uncomfortable looking Malfoy.

Hermione listened curiously, seeing as she had never used a phone that old herself. The young witch suddenly realised that this was how children who grew up in the wizarding world must've felt when they were first introduced to muggle technologies. _Funny, how we'll fit in just fine with the rest of the purebloods_. It made her anxious, that she knew more about the magical world in this time than the one she originally came from.

"Correct Miss McGonagall, ten points to Gryffindor. Now-" Hermione tuned the man's excited voice out in favour of watching Abraxas fumble with the telephone again. The boy looked positively mortified at the thought of using such a device himself, and she found herself giggling at the boy's appalled look...

* * *

After the lesson had finally ended, Hermione found herself being pulled away by Minerva who lead her through the crowded corridors back to their common room. "I need your help with Charlus. He's developed quite the crush on one of the new Slytherin firsties."

Hermione wrinkled her forehead at Minerva's words, trying to think of anyone who would catch the boy's eyes.

"Her name is Dorea Black, the one with the pretty dark curls? He's been bugging me for days to introduce them." Rolling her eyes, Minerva waited for the fat lady to let them into their common room. "I don't know, why he thinks I can just walk up to some random Slytherin and ask her to hang out with us."

"Probably, 'cause you're the only girl he knows, that'd actually help him." Hermione watched her friend throw her head back in exasperation.

They sat down at one of the leather sofas at the back of the room and continued whispering so that their housemates wouldn't overhear their conversation.

"He could've just asked you though, at least you already know some Slytherins that could introduce you to her and then, in turn, introduce us to her." Hermione was still baffled by the complicated processes of interacting with people outside their own social circles in this time.

"Can't Charlus just man-up and talk to her himself? Why go through all the trouble? She's a first-year for Merlin's sake."

Minerva just shook her head, looking like Hermione was the crazy one. "She's a Black, Charlus would cause a small scandal if he just walked up to her."

"You know that's just ridiculous right?"

Minerva pursed her lips. "It's proper. Maybe in France, you could've gotten away with this, but here you'd risk a girls reputation if you're not careful." Her friend explained with a serious face that most certainly didn't suit her young face.

 _What a ridiculous custom_. Hermione thought to herself but wisely kept her mouth shut. "Well, if you say so, what do you want me to do then?"

Minerva shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, maybe ask Rosier or Malfoy if they know someone that knows Dorea so that they can introduce us?"

Confused, Hermione crossed her arms. "Isn't it enough that they're all in the same house? Why do I have to find someone that personally knows her?"

"Because she's a Black Hermione, do keep up would you?"

Hermione puffed her cheeks at Minerva's tone, a little irritated with the girl's bossy attitude. "Well, excuse me for questioning this whole charade Minny. Tell Charlus that I'll see what I can do, I need to finish my potion's essay so I'll leave first." Ignoring her friends raised brows at her abrupt departure, she stepped out of the common room.

 _Why am I so angry? She just asked me to help our friend_. Still contemplating her harsh reaction, Hermione walked out to the castle grounds and sat down on one of the stone benches, unbothered by the chilly air.

 _I've been moody all week. Maybe this really is just me hitting puberty again_. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, not happy about having to go through those ridiculous mood-swings again for the next five years.

"Merlin, this is annoying." She murmured to herself.

"What is?" Startled she looked up to the person that had interrupted her moment of self-pity. Abraxas smirked down at her before signing her to move a little to the side so that he could sit down as well.

"Abraxas, what are you doing out here?"

"Quidditch tryouts. I wanna be a chaser this year. What about you?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "It's about my friend Charlus, he fancies someone from your house."

Abraxas scoffed. "That Potter boy, you and your Mudblood friend, always hang out with?"

"She's a Halfblood, her mum's a witch."

Abraxas just made a face at her, quickly changing the conversation back to Charlus. "Anyways, what poor girl does he fancy so much that he even sends you?"

Hermione scoffed at his obvious taunt. "He didn't ask me specifically. Look it's complicated, I don't even really want to get involved in all of this." Hermione turned to look at the blond boy, before continuing. "Her name is Dorea Black, she's a first-year."

Abraxas bristled, looking something akin to impressed. "Seems like you Gryffindors are really as brave as you're stupid."

As an answer, Hermione lightly punched the smirking boy's arm.

"Ouch! Alright, alright. It's just that she's a Black." He said defensively, and Hermione had to suppress a groan.

"Yes, I heard. It seems to be a great deal to be from this family here." She watched Abraxas nodding in agreement. "Still, I need to find someone who can introduce me to her, so that I can introduce her to Charlus. Can you help me?"

"I don't know Hermione. Her family would flip if they found out about my involvement in their daughter's potential romance with not only a Gryffindor but a blood traitor as well."

This time she couldn't hold back a small annoyed groan. "Please Abraxas, she's only eleven, and he's twelve, where's the harm in them talking to each other." Her Slytherin friend still didn't look convinced, but Hermione wasn't giving up just yet. "Dorea probably won't even care. Isn't it better to make him get over his crush rather sooner than later?"

This seemed to do the trick, and she watched Abraxas' resolve crumble. "I owe you one if you help me with this." _Hook, line, and sinker_.

Abraxas took one deep breath as if to dispel any lasting doubts. "Deal. But don't tell anyone it was me who helped you if things go south. I'll introduce you to Cygnus Black, he's in our year and her nephew or something. Their family tree is kinda messed up."

Hermione grimaced at a memory of Sirius trying to explain his house's obsession with keeping it in the family.

"Thank you, Abraxas. When can I meet him?"...

* * *

"Dorea, please meet Charlus Potter, a friend of mine." Hermione shoved her nervous friend forward as he stumbled over his words in the presence of his crush.

It had been a week since Abraxas' friend had introduced her to the pretty girl, that seemed way too sweet to be a snake. She'd finally managed to find time to set up a meeting between her and Charlus after inviting the girl to the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Just as Abraxas, her friend had gotten a place on their team as a keeper.

"N-nice to meet you, I'm Charlus." Hermione tried to hide her smile behind her long sleeves as she watched her housemate fumble with his scarf, his face resembling the tomato soup they had for dinner.

"I know, Hermione just said so." Minerva coughed suspiciously behind her. Charlus seemed to blush even harder at the girl's quiet words.

She and Minerva had stayed with the two as it was proper but Hermione still felt as if she was intruding. T _hey're children, stop fretting over it so much_.

"Yes, of course. Well- I just wanted to say that…" Charlus desperately looked to Minerva for help but she just silently signed him to continue.

"I just wanted to ask, if you maybe would like to study together sometime?" He finally blurted out and Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks in order to keep her smile in check.

A little taken aback by her friend's forward question, Dorea blinked. "Yes, I'd like that Potter. I'll see when I have time."

Charlus looked like he was ready to just melt on the spot. Hermione was proud of the boy for building up the courage to actually talk to the girl and happily patted her friend's shoulder as they watched Dorea catch up to some of her waiting housemates a few yards away.

"Merlin, that was the scariest thing I've ever done," Charlus announced breathlessly.

"Look on the bright side, at least Hermione, and I don't have to awkwardly chaperone you next time since Cygnus allowed you to spend time with her."

Hermione rolled her eyes, still offended by the fact that a witch had to get the permission of a male relative in this era, to interact with a wizard if it concerned anything beyond school or work. _Well, at least if you're from one of those old, prejudiced houses_. She couldn't imagine Minerva having to ask her father if she could befriend Charlus.

"I'm surprised he said so, to be honest. He probably wants to ruin me somehow, bloody Slytherins."

"Charlus! In case you've already forgotten. Dorea is one as well." Hermione chided, and her friend had the decency to look ashamed.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry Mione."

"You definitely owe me some chocolate frogs for everything I did for you this week." She laughed and together the three of them made their way back to the castle...

* * *

 **November 1939**

After a month of fruitless research, Hermione had reached her limit. She hadn't found anything regarding the blood magic Rodolphus had used on her or something even remotely credible regarding their slip through time for that matter.

Not a single legitimate book, or article. Nothing. Frustrated she put the books she had been reading back into their designated shelves, ready to get into her pyjamas and just call it a day. Sadly those hopes were put on hold as soon as she saw Riddle coming her way.

"If I didn't know your hang for rebelling against authority I'd have never put you for a Gryffindor, Lestrange."

"Fancy meeting you too Riddle, how're your classes going? Last time I checked I was on top of the list in two more subjects than you." She mocked and watched satisfied as Riddle's pretty face turned sour.

"Just because Dumbledore favours Gryffindors over every other house. Skill has nothing to do with your success." He snapped back, anger clearly written all over his face. It was one of the few emotions that boy seemed to be able to express.

"I know that I'm a better caster than most of my classmates, biased teachers or not," Hermione answered haughtily, not liking Riddles insult to her intellect at all.

"If you say so, Lestrange. Just out of curiosity did you know that Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth?" Hermione nearly choked on her own spit as the words left Riddles mouth and she tried to force the sudden flash of panic flaring up in her chest down. _Don't mess this up_.

"I did...Why?" Riddle stepped a little closer, causing Hermione, in turn, to back away from the boy, the bookshelf painfully digging into her shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me? You're the only one who knows how miserable the orphanage really is, this could've helped me find my family."

"Abraxas probably knew as well?" she countered, actually feeling a little guilty now that she knew herself how much the life in the orphanage really affected Riddle. He wasn't just someone Harry told her about anymore. He was a real, deeply troubled boy that had apparently put his trust in her… to some extent. _And I failed him. I need to fix this before father hexes me into the next century_.

"I'm sorry Riddle, I really didn't mean to hold back any information from you." She eventually responded after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

"But you did. It was Abraxas who told me. Like any real friend would." _He's clearly trying to manipulate me_. Hermione had been around long enough to know when someone was playing her.

"I can't say more than I'm sorry Riddle, it won't happen again, I promise." She decided to play along for now, as she didn't want to ruin a year of hard work over such a small matter.

Riddle looked at her sceptically, clearly not buying her apologetic behaviour. "Prove it then. Show me that I can trust you." His grey eyes shone like cold steel in the flickering lights of the countless candles.

"How?" She whispered, feeling goosebumps crawl up her arms.

"I want you to get something for me. A book to be more precise."

Somewhat relieved by his harmless request, Hermione felt like she could breathe again. "What book?" She asked, what was left of the space between them, seemingly getting smaller with every second.

"It's a Biography of the house of Slytherin, only a few copies still exist." Hermione figured that Riddle hoped to find some answers about his heritage in there.

"Why ask me? Abraxas' family will probably have a copy as well."

"Because you're the one I trust, and because you're not as stupid as the rest of our schoolmates." He spoke with a smooth voice, his calm face not giving anything away.

Hermione caught herself falling right into the boy's trap, his honeyed words feeding her ego just where they both knew would be the most effective. _My intelligence. Merlin this boy is good_. She tried to read Riddles blank expression. _Very good_. "I see...I can ask my father if we have a copy, if not we could probably just order one."

Riddle gave her an approving nod before finally stepping away from her. "I'm counting on you Lestrange, don't make me regret it."

She felt her face grow hot under his intense glare and tried to quench her guilt as she silently watched him leave. _How am I supposed to stand up to that boy_? Sighing she collected her whirling thoughts before returning back to her room as well...

* * *

 **December 1939**

The Yule Holidays were fast approaching, and for the first time, Hermione didn't feel dread pooling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of returning home. Figuring it was because she was finally getting used to the idea of having to stay in this time for good. It was also the first time that she was allowed to visit either Charlus or Minerva for a few days and she just couldn't wait to finally meet her future teacher's brothers.

"So, you're really allowed to spend some time away from home?" Minerva asked excited for her friend and Hermione eagerly agreed.

"Yes! I'd love to visit you, it's not that far from my house either." She and Minerva were sitting at the dining table in the great hall, enjoying some pudding and admiring the soft snowflakes that were raining from the enchanted ceiling. It felt magical. The beautifully decorated trees and sparkling tablecloths only adding to the Christmas spirit.

"My Mum will be so excited. I told her everything about you, she hasn't met any other witch in ages!"

Hermione smiled happily at her friend's words, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. "I get it. I've never had an older witch around while growing up." That was technically not even a lie Hermione thought to herself.

"You'll love her. She makes the best mince pie in the whole world."

"I'll look forward to it Minny. This is going to be great!"...

* * *

"Father asked me to invite you over to spend Yule with us. I'll visit Minny, but he wouldn't mind if you stayed until school starts again." Hermione told Riddle with a strained smile firmly plastered on her face.

She knew that her fath-Rodolphus, _since when am I calling that man my father_ , wanted to have his future Lord within arms reach but still... It felt weird to invite that boy into her home as if they were best friends.

"Why? We're not that close." Tom asked suspiciously as if he were reading her thoughts. _Wasn't he a powerful legilimens_? Shuddering at the idea of Riddle going through her mind, she rubbed her arms. To convince the boy, Hermione decided to go with what Evan had once asked her.

"I told him about your abilities when I asked for that book you wanted to have."

"So he sees me as an asset?" Tom sneered, but Hermione knew it probably wasn't because he felt insulted by that notion.

"I guess. Look, if you don't want to come, I can just tell him that-" Before Hermione could finish her sentence, Riddle interrupted her.

"Of course I'll visit. Why would I willingly stay at that dreadful orphanage if your family so kindly invited me over the Holidays?" Hermione wondered if Dumbledore knew that Riddle wasn't staying in the Muggle World. _Can he forbid him from leaving like he did with Harry_?

"Alright, then, we'll pick you up on the twenty-fifth. See you later Riddle." Before he could say anything else, Hermione hurriedly grabbed her bags and made her way down to the carriages...

* * *

"Welcome home Missy, Winny has already made everything pretty for Missy again." Tired from the long journey, Hermione gratefully nodded at her house-elf, stepping into her cleaned room. It smelled like freshly washed linen and burning logs and against her better judgement she closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.

 _It feels good to be home again_. The thought caught Hermione entirely off guard. _Where did this come from_? She looked around herself. _This is not my home._

"The master has ordered Winny to make sure that Missy is going to be ready for dinner." Hermione nodded absentmindedly at the elf's words, still confused about her own feelings.

"Missy will need to take a bath quickly. Dinner will be served very soon." After Hermione still didn't pay attention to her elf's words, she suddenly felt her body being lifted from the floor.

"Winny!" Surprised, she tried to get back to the ground again but instead found herself being levitated into the bathroom.

"Winny is very sorry, but Missy wasn't listening." Finding the whole situation quite hilarious Hermione laughed at her current predicament, easing her elf's worries significantly.

After she was bathed and dressed again, Hermione made her way down to the dining room, praying that Rabastan was home.

"Hermione there you are. Sit down, you're already ten minutes late." Hermione flinched at her father's calm voice.

"Did our Lord accept my invitation? It would be an honour to have him stay with us over the holidays." Hermione nodded quietly, not feeling like talking to the man. She proceeded to fill up her plate with some mashed potatoes before digging into her food, hungry from the long journey home.

"Excellent, you did well, you may take Winny to Diagon Alley and buy yourself something." Surprised at his generous offer Hermione finally looked up to the man that she resembled so much now. He looked healthier than he did when they had first arrived in this time. He still was too pale, but his dark curls where styled neatly on the top of his head and his face looked freshly shaved, making him look much younger.

Feeling a little weirded out by the man's expectant gaze, she quietly sipped on her drink. "Thank you? But why-?" Hermione paused for a second, suddenly not sure what she wanted to ask her father again.

"Why do we never do something together? I'd really like it if you came with me to the shops." _That's definitely not what I wanted to say. What am I doing_?

Rodolphus didn't look nearly as surprised as Hermione felt after asking him that question, and she wondered if she was finally losing her mind.

"I'm a busy man Hermione. You should ask your uncle." Hermione felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. _This is madness. Why am I feeling like this_? She took another big sip of her drink, hoping to clear her mind but instead felt like she was hit with even more conflicting thoughts and feelings towards the man in front of her.

"It's just that all my friends are really close with their families. I'm lonely." She felt tears burning behind her eyes and gripped her cutlery harder in an attempt to distract her mind from her current thoughts.

She heard her father take a deep breath and looked up to find him looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Lestranges don't cry. Pull yourself together."

She sniffed once before pulling her shoulders back, forcefully pushing down her sadness again. _He's right I shouldn't...wait...this is not…_

"Eat up Hermione. Tomorrow I'll show you some new spells." Still confused about what was happening to her, Hermione finished her dinner and emptied her glass. It felt nice when Rodolphus had called her by her name, it made her feel...appreciated.

After erasing her parents' memories during the war, she would've never thought that anyone would ever call her his or her daughter again. _I can't remember my mum's face why can't I-_ Hermione tried to collect her scattered thoughts, but before she could put the pieces back together, another thought replaced her current ones. _Father is counting on me_. Hermione was a Lestrange now, and Lestranges didn't cry.

"I- I'll retire to my rooms now..." She stood, her hands tightly gripping the wood of the table. "Have a good night father." Her head was pounding, a maelstrom of emotions threatening to overwhelm her but she tried to focus on the familiar warmth of her father's affection for her.

She regarded the silent man with a wavering smile, not noticing the calculating gleam in his eyes or the silver dust at the bottom of her glass. No, all that Hermione was seeing was the approving nod of her father...

* * *

 **Well. Seems like the potion is working out just fine for Rodolphus...When do you think Hermione will notice? Why is he even doing this? Hint: It's not 'cause he wants to be a good dad...:D**

 **Anyways, tnx for the lovely reviews and follows again...xoxo**


	6. 2nd Year - Part II

**December 1939**

"I'll be off then, see you next week Winny!" Hermione called over her shoulder while rushing towards the fireplace, her small travel bag idly floating behind her. Today she would finally meet Minerva's family.

"Missy must bid her farewell to the Master first. Miss Hermione, please wait up." Her frantic house-elf called after her, but Hermione had already stepped into the green flames.

"Tell father I'll write to him tonight, I'm already late, bye Winny." The elf watched Hermione vanish in the flickering fire, happy for her Mistress and relieved that she seemed to have found her smile again. It had been far too long since she had a child to dote on and she would do everything to make sure her Mistress was well…

When Hermione opened her eyes again, she found herself standing in a small living room. The mismatched walls were covered in countless photos and portraits, some of them cheerfully waving at her from their withered frames.

"Hermione, you're here!" Minerva appeared at the entrance to the room, promptly pulling her friend into a warm hug. Hermione returned the gesture, feeling just as excited as her housemate.

"And you must be the Lestrange girl that lives up the hill. Minerva told us so much about you." A tall woman with the same copper locks as Minny entered the already crowded living space.

Her countless lessons with the Lestrange brothers deeply ingrained in her head, Hermione found herself curtsying in return to the woman's words. "Pleasure to meet you, Madame McGonagall, thanks for letting me stay here."

Regarding Hermione with a warm smile, she dismissively waved her hand. "A friend of my daughter is always welcome in this house. Minny, why don't you show her your room while I prepare some snacks."

Before Hermione could protest, her friend had already grabbed her hand, and together they made their way up the narrow stairs right outside the living room. Hermione's eyes wandered over the countless trinkets sprawled around the house. It was clear that the house belonged to a happy family. She even spotted some wooden letter blocks and a colouring book on their way to her friend's room. They were worn with use.

"I'm sorry for the mess. Robby likes to leave his toys everywhere." Minerva said, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"I don't mind. Your home is beautiful." Hermione meant it, the house was the complete opposite of her own. It wasn't dirty, but it was clear to the eye that a lot of people shared this cosy space.

Hermione felt a little jealous at the sight of the countless photographs on every wall, depicting scenes of the domestic bliss, that was so typical for this era. It seemed like her friend really grew up in a loving household.

"Let's see if you still think so when you see the bathroom. We only have running water down in the kitchen." Both girls laughed at Minerva's comment but truth to be told, Hermione couldn't care less about the plumbing.

Minerva showed her the room the girls would be sharing for the next nights and Hermione had to physically restrain herself from snooping around her old teacher's childhood room. It was not particularly large or fancy, the furniture looked a little worn, but to Hermione, this room felt more like home than her own back at the manor ever did.

"You have a lot of books Minerva, is that a first edition of Gamps Theorem?" She traced the backs of the various tomes carefully, interested in what kind of literature her friend liked to read in her spare time.

Minerva hummed, her eyes trailing over the tall shelf. "My father is a pastor so we can afford my expensive hobby of getting the most obscure books the shop has in that month." They laughed, but Hermione was a little surprised that her father seemed to support his daughter's unusual hobbies.

"How come, a man of God would be okay with his daughter being a witch on top of being smarter than all the boy's she knows?" Her friend rolled her eyes at Hermione's playful tone.

"Because God loves all his children equally and my magic obviously must've been given to me for a reason."

"So you really believe in god?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"I was raised in a religious household, of course, I do," Minerva answered much to Hermione's surprise. _I'd have never guessed that she was religious..._

* * *

"When I first introduced my parents to my husband, my father had a small heart attack." Mrs McGonagall eyes twinkled at the memory.

Hermione listened in amazement as Minny's Mother recounted her first meeting with Robert McGonagall. It was clear as day, that the two loved each other dearly and that her friend's father cherished all his children equally, magical or not.

"Didn't he chase you out with my Mother's broom when you asked him for my hand? You two looked hilarious running through the garden, yelling profanities at each other." The whole table erupted into laughter at Mrs McGonagall's words.

Hermione was enjoying herself immensely. For the first time in months, her mind felt completely free. Her thoughts were clearer than ever, and she didn't know if it was her first time staying with another family or something else, but her previous longings of getting closer to the Lestranges had all but disappeared after several days of staying with the McGonagalls.

"Hermione, you're awfully quiet tonight, is something bothering you?" Mrs McGonagall's inquisitive eyes found Hermione's own.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing. I was just thinking about all the assignments we have to finish before school starts again." She replied, hoping that her excuse was convincing enough.

"And here I thought my daughter was the only one who left her understanding of fun back in heaven." Minerva's father chimed in, his warm eyes sparkling with amusement at his daughter's scathing glare.

"Dad! There is nothing wrong with enjoying your studies." Minerva said with her arms firmly crossed over her chest, but her father just chuckled louder.

"Of course love, you know how proud we are of you, I pray every night that your brothers will follow your example."

At his words, Minny's youngest brother, Robert, decided that he had stayed quiet for long enough and began shoving his plate dangerously close to the edge of the table. His Mother caught the toddlers arm just in time and quickly picked up the moody boy.

"I think that ship has sailed my dear, they definitely have their uncles temper already." Mrs McGonagall regarded her son with a loving smile.

Hermione felt her heart grow heavy at the sight of the pure love between the Mother and child. It was times like these, Hermione missed her own parents the most. Admittedly she had begun to forget the finer details of how her parents looked over the past few years, but that didn't mean that certain smells or situations brought back memories she'd rather not relive in the presence of other people.

After everyone had finished up their meals, Hermione and Minerva went outside to enjoy the fresh snow for a while before turning in for the night…

* * *

The week had gone by much too fast for Hermione's taste, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself already packing her small travel bag again. Minerva was helping her sort through the new dresses that Mrs McGonagall had sewn her for Christmas, resulting in a sobbing Hermione sitting under the sparkling Christmas tree and a very distressed mother hugging the distraught child.

"I still can't get over the fact that you actually cried over these." She held up a simple maroon dress before neatly folding it and putting it on top of the other clothes in Hermione's luggage.

"I was just really surprised…We usually don't celebrate Christmas." _It's not as if I want the Lestranges to get me presents anyway_.

"I'm fortunate to be able to experience the best of both worlds," Minerva explained wistfully.

"I'm just glad that Hogwarts is generous enough to let the Muggleborns have their Holidays" Until her arrival in this time, Hermione had never even considered that magical families might not celebrate religious holidays. She hadn't even considered the idea, that the only reason they had a few days off during the spring was so that Muggleborns could go home for Easter.

"I heard that it was Dumbledore who convinced the board about this, it was quite the scandal a few years ago." _A few years_? It took Hermione by surprise that those seemingly harmless holidays were introduced so late to the Hogwarts curriculum. _We've been taking a lot for granted in the future_.

It was quite apparent that prejudices against Muggle-borns and even half-bloods were much more prevalent in this era, but Hermione still hadn't expected it to be this bad until she had heard some of her teachers openly discriminate against Muggle-borns in front of the entire class, not being questioned about their appalling behaviour by anyone.

The first time Hermione had witnessed Minny being ignored by their Herbology Professor just because he "didn't like her kind" as he had so kindly put it, Hermione had nearly hexed the man. Sometimes she caught herself dwelling in her pureblood bubble, not questioning why the professors are nicer to her or why the daily prophet never speaks ill about the scions of an old house, no matter what atrocities they might've committed.

It was dangerously easy to get used to the special treatment if you stopped noticing it right away but Hermione being a muggleborn herself, could never fully tune out the injustice her friends were facing on a daily basis, it felt like she was betraying them.

"All done Mione, you definitely need to bring a bigger bag next time. Mum will probably not let you leave this house with at least one knitted cardigan or skirt ever again." Both girls giggled at that statement, fully aware that Minerva was speaking the truth.

Hermione tried not to get too upset at the thought of leaving her friend again, which was hard, knowing that Riddle would visit the day after tomorrow.

"Don't be sad, we'll see each other again in just a few weeks," Minerva said, noticing her friend's sombre mood.

Hermione got up from her comfortable position on the carpet, her bag in one hand, her thick coat and scarf in the other. "I know Minny, let me have my moment, alright? I'm a very sensitive person."

"Sensitive my a-"

"Minerva McGonagall, what is this foul language I hear from your pretty mouth?" Both girls gasped at the stern voice of Mrs McGonagall, who was leaning against the doorframe of her daughter's room with her hands firmly planted on her hips.

"I didn't even say anything bad," Minerva mumbled under her breath, but that didn't stop her Mother from tutting at her defensive words.

"No excuses, dish-duty 'till the end of the week." Hermione watched her friend open her mouth to argue back, but one raised brow on her Mother's face was enough to make the girl reconsider her next action.

"Alright, alright. Can I bring Hermione to the fireplace now?" She eventually said with a strained voice.

Her Mother nodded, all previous anger forgotten. _This is how a parent-child argument should go_. Hermione thought grimly, remembering her own squabbles with Rodolphus. _Why are most of the sacred twenty-eight families so messed up_? She thought to herself, knowing that most of her other friends, except for maybe Charlus, would never have been assigned to just do the dishes for a week if they spoke up to their parents.

"Hermione dear, it was really nice to have you here, do visit again soon, alright?" Minerva's Mother spoke when they stopped in front of their simple fireplace before giving Hermione a tight hug.

The young girl inhaled the scent of clean laundry and roses that she came to associate with the warm-hearted woman over the past week deeply. _Merlin, I don't want to leave_. When she felt tears forming behind her closed eyes, she hastily let go of her, not wanting Mrs McGonagall to see her crying again.

"Thanks for having me again." Hermione quickly embraced Minerva as well before grabbing some floo powder from the box her Mother was offering her and stepping into the green flames.

"Lestrange Manor." She spoke with a clear voice before vanishing...

* * *

"Tom!" Before the surprised boy could stop her, Hermione launched herself at her classmate, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Have you actually lost your mind, Lestrange?" He hissed while unsuccessfully trying to peel the smiling girl off his person.

"Hush, play along for me, will you? Father is really cross with me at the moment." She whispered into his ear, making the boy visibly shudder at their closeness to each other.

"I don't see how this has anything to do with me, so get your hands off me immediately." He tried to shove Hermione away from him, but she wasn't giving up just yet.

"Hermione come here, now!" The girl stifled at the angry voice of Rodolphus Lestrange and Riddle watched silently over her shoulder as the man made his way towards the two, his eyes blazing and his wand tightly gripped in his left hand.

"I'll get you all the books you want for the rest of your life if you get me out of this. Father adores you." She pleaded, subtly moving the irritated Slytherin in front of her but still never fully letting go of him.

Feeling Riddle take a deep breath, she leaned a little closer, even though Hermione knew that he did not like to be touched or Merlin forbid, hugged.

"What makes you think I can just tell a grown man what to do?" He turned his head slightly, not letting the older Lestrange out of his sight.

Her nails dug painfully into his arms at his question. "Just…trust me. You're –" Hermione's voice faltered for a second when she saw how close her father was already. "You're the heir of Slytherin for Merlin's sake, he'll listen to you I swear." _Please just open your God damn mouth, Riddle_. She pleaded within her mind while watching the scowling boy.

"What do you mean by that?" Riddle grabbed her wrists painfully.

"Hermione Lestrange get away from that boy and face me like the brave Gryffindor you claim to be." Her eyes widened as her father came to an abrupt halt in front of them. His face was twisted in rage at her audacity to hide behind his oh-so-precious lord.

"All the books in the world, Riddle, please." She begged, fully aware that if the boy wouldn't open his pretty mouth soon, Rodolphus would actually hex her right in front of him, judging from the maniacal gleam in his eyes. Without Rabastan in the house, Hermione didn't dare to defy him anymore, still scarred from their previous fights and the memory of Winny's bloody form on the floor.

"Mister Lestrange, I'm sorry for the intrusion. When I arrived, the house-elves told me that you and Les- Hermione were still otherwise occupied." At Riddle's calm voice, the older Lestrange's eyes turned away from the girl and down to her current human shield.

Hermione watched in amazement as the madness faded from his gaze, only to be instantly replaced by something akin to excitement. _My God, this man is batshit crazy_.

"Riddle my boy, always a pleasure to see you, I didn't know you and my daughter were so close." He drawled, his eyes scanning over their entangled forms before stopping at the sight of Hermione grabbing the boy's arms, the white of her knuckles clearly shining through her trembling hands.

Pursuing her lips, she tried to keep her cool now that she knew that the man was calming down.

"Whatever she has done I'm sure she is feeling very guilty about it, I'd appreciate it if you forgave her this one time." Hermione could practically see Rodolphus' resolve crumble, once again completely taken aback by the man's ill-placed loyalties to his future lord. _I can't believe he's actually listening to a pompous twelve-year-old brat_.

"Of course my boy, off you two go!" He finally said, proceeding to put his wand back into the hidden pocket in his sleeve. Hermione's mouth fell open at his sudden change in behaviour, speechless that her plan had worked out so well. She carefully watched Rodolphus nod to himself once before turning around on his heels.

"I'll see you two at dinner then. Behave yourself, Hermione." He spoke over his shoulder before turning around the next corner, leaving the two children alone in the candlelit corridor again.

"Merlin, I can't believe that actually worked. You're a lifesaver Riddle." She finally let the boy shove her off, still euphoric that she could use him as some kind of a homicidal-maniac repellent in the future.

"What's wrong with your family Lestrange? What did you even do to make him that angry?" Looking at her like she was the sole reason for all his problems, Riddle narrowed his grey eyes at her.

Sheepishly rubbing her neck, Hermione chuckled nervously. "Just the usual you know, Muggleborn rights and the general Slytherin-Gryffindor debate. Nothing really, he just likes to get upset with me."

Tom sceptically raised his brows at her dismissive answer but didn't probe any further. "We need to talk about honesty Lestrange. What did you mean about me being the Heir of Slytherin?"...

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange was livid. One week without drinking the potion and the brat was already back to her usual defiant, self-righteous self, it was infuriating.

"Winny!" He called into the darkness of his study, downing the burning liquid in his glass in one go. "I told you to make sure she drinks her medicine on her little trip! Because of your mistake, your Mistress is becoming very unwell again."

He watched the elf's ears flatten at his angry voice, clearly upset that it may have harmed the girl. The only sound in the room was the crackling fire in the background, the flickering light of the blazing flames casting long shadows over their figures.

"Winny is sorry. The older Miss was very observant, Winny couldn't find the right time to put the medicine in Missy's drinks." Rodolphus sneered at the pathetic creature before him, contemplating if torturing the thing was worth the trouble his beloved daughter would make if she found out later.

He needed her to be compliant for his future plans, apparently breaking her spirit wasn't as easy as he had once imagined. He had spent a lot of time and money on finding the perfect Potion Master for his unusual request, and now one slip up had set him back weeks.

"Useless little creature. Make sure to up her dose." He sneered, aware that if the thing ever found out what the potion actually did, it would run straight to its Mistress no matter what his orders were. That elf was too attached to Hermione. For now, though, it served its purpose, giving him a golden opportunity to spy on the brat.

"Winny will do her best, Master mustn't worry!" The elf exclaimed, determined to make up for its mistake. When the thing had finally apparated away again, Rodolphus leaned back in his chair, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

Why couldn't things just work out for once? Fate had given him the chance to help his lord succeed in returning their world to its former glory, but his only way to currently do so was by recruiting Potter's smartest Mudblood. The irony of the whole situation didn't escape him. Of course, he could've just killed her again and found some other brat to do her job, it probably would've been much easier than trying to get a Gryffindor and warrior of the Order to work for their side. But something in the back of his mind had stopped him from getting rid of the girl again. It felt as if Fate was telling him to wait, for now, take the harder route, making the victory at the end of it oh so much sweeter.

"She's also a Lestrange now, would be a waste to kill my only heir after risking my own life during that ritual." He murmured, refilling his glass again. "Ungrateful little girl, here I am, offering her a life of privilege and she throws it away for her pitiful ideals…Disgusting."

The mere thought of the cheeky brat made his blood boil again. He bitterly sipped his drink, wondering if she was truly worth the trouble. He prayed that his future nephews and nieces would turn out to be proper little purebloods. Deep down he may have been a bit jealous of Rabastan and how he was building himself another life in this era, but then he thought of his brother's dim-witted fiancé, suddenly very glad that his own wife was already seven feet under.

"Ah, brother! I see you're enjoying yourself tremendously again?"

Rodolphus looked up from his drink. His brother pushed the doors to his study open instead of knocking like any civilised being would do, proceeding to sit down in front of the older sibling.

"You're back earlier than expected. How come?" He asked, a little irritated by his younger brother's smiling face. He'd always been the odd one in the family. Too…happy. As vicious as any other Lestrange of course but still. Rodolphus watched his brother whirling his wand once to light up the dark room.

"Merlin, this place is just as gloomy as it was when father was still alive. Sometimes I think you're him when I see you sitting here all alone in the dark, cursing every poor soul that was unfortunate enough to cross your path that day."

The older Lestrange rolled his eyes at his brothers' teasing. "I'll take this as a compliment, now back to my original question, why are you here two days earlier?"

His brother grimaced. "Loreen's grandmother came over unexpectedly. I can't stand that old witch; she clearly doesn't like me very much."

Rodolphus regarded his brother with a flat look, silently asking if he was serious right now. He was scheming to take over the wizarding world while his brother was frolicking around with their future in-laws. It was time that his younger brother came back to his Lestrange roots.

He conjured another glass and filled it up before handing it to Rabastan.

"I still don't understand how you can drink this stuff, it tastes vile." He complained but taking the offered drink nonetheless.

"Well now that I'm back why don't you tell me how my beloved niece is doing, still not obeying your every word?" Scowling at his brother's words, the older Lestrange took another large sip from his glass before folding his legs and leaning back again.

"The potion I ordered is working well, we had a minor setback, but this whole issue should be resolved soon. Then I can finally focus on more important things." The two men looked at each for a few seconds.

"Good, good. What about our lord, is Hermione getting closer to him?"

Rodolphus nodded. "She used him to avoid punishment today. One could only imagine what she offered him in return for his help." He chuckled darkly, hoping that little stunt today would come back to bite her in the arse one day. He knew his lord did not grant favours freely.

"Clever. The boy is turning thirteen already this year, right? My, how time flies." Rabastan mused, his young face showing no trace of the battle-hardened wizard he had been in his previous life. Rodolphus knew that his brother had recovered from his stay in Azkaban much better than he did and it showed. The fact that he had found a witch he wanted to settle down with had surprised Rodolphus at first but then who was he to judge.

He had made a Mudblood their only other living relative, well except for those awful pricks back on the continent, and now spent most of his days managing the estate and doing business with the Ministry. All this official business, it was the complete opposite of what he had been doing previously, but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying it. Quite on the contrary, when he wasn't fighting with the brat, he was genuinely pleased with how his life was going. Here he didn't have to hide from Aurors or Dementors, he didn't have to endure the constant screeching of his awful wife or her other relatives. No, here at the dawn of the 1930s in an era he didn't belong, he was finally free.

"Are you even listening to what I've been telling you, brother?" Rabastan's bemused voice interrupted the older Lestrange's thoughts.

"Sorry I tuned out the moment you mentioned wedding gowns, do I look like a blushing bridesmaid to you brother?" He asked, but Rabastan just threw his head back, laughing at the thought of his older brother in a dress robe.

The two of them continued their conversation until it was time to join the two children for dinner. For the first time in years, Rodolphus felt like his life was finally taking the right turn...

* * *

"Thanks again for agreeing to reschedule your stay so that I could visit Minny Riddle," Hermione spoke over the rim of the book she was currently reading, watching how the boy on the sofa across from her just nodded at her words.

"It didn't feel right to stay here alone with your father, but any time away from that dreadful orphanage is a blessing." She noticed that he didn't thank her for the invitation in general but decided that it wasn't worth the argument that would inevitably follow if she criticised his manners.

For the past few days, they had spent most of their time quietly reading books from the extensive library of the manor, enjoying the silence and occasionally discussing magical theories.

"Lestrange, do you have any other books on the Slytherin bloodline?" Riddle asked after a few more minutes of silence.

Letting her head fall back to look at the high ceiling, Hermione mentally went through all the books she had read during her stay in this era.

"Have you read Blishwick's works already?" She asked, and Riddle agreed.

"Well, then no, we don't. That book you're currently reading is the last one I can think of. Maybe you should ask my father, he can get you more books on that topic for sure." She finally said, deciding to give the boy what he wanted for now.

"If I recall correctly, it was you that promised me not too many nights ago to be my personal book supplier for the rest of your life, so why don't you hurry up and ask your father yourself." He replied haughtily, and Hermione had to suppress the urge to throw her book at the insufferable boy. She knew she'd regret asking him for his help. _Stupid git. Do I look like an elf_?

Over the past days, she'd felt this indescribable longing to please that awful man again, and she wondered if something in her head had finally snapped. _Or maybe it's just my stupid hormones starting to mess things up in there_. Puberty indeed was a wondrous time, a time Hermione could happily live without.

"Chop, chop Lestrange. Those books don't buy themselves." Riddle taunted from his seat and huffing Hermione got up to search for her father…

* * *

 **February 1940**

Hermione had first spotted the silver residue at the bottom of her drinks a week ago. She had been happily sipping on her pumpkin juice when something decidedly not orange swirled around her cup, making the girl nearly drop her mug as a result. Spiking a former "fugitive's" drink obviously wasn't the best idea of a prank as Hermione had suspected in the beginning.

But then her drinks continued to contain the strange substance, and Hermione grew wary of the effects that potion might have on her. She tried to think of anything that had changed in the recent past but came to no conclusion. She felt fine, and it didn't seem like the potion was doing any harm, but still. The idea of someone spiking her drinks didn't sit well with the girl.

"Silver colour but no taste and no apparent effect? I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange, but I've never heard of such a potion." Professor Slughorn confessed.

Hermione had to suppress the urge to groan in frustration. She had searched through every book, every potion recipe but had found nothing. Whatever it was that the house-elves were putting in her drinks, it wasn't a peer-approved potion. And that was scaring Hermione.

"How unfortunate, still thanks for your time, Professor, I appreciate it." Hermione eventually answered, receiving a jovial smile in return.

"Everything for one of my brightest students, Miss Lestrange. Please do tell me when you find the potion you're looking for." She nodded before returning back to her dorm, frustrated with the dead ends she was finding herself at. _He was my last option. How else am I supposed to find out about this potion now_?

Hermione had exhausted all her resources. She had asked the nurse, her classmates, hell – even Riddle, but to no avail. Minny had gone as far as questioning Hermione's story, seeing that it was only her that ever saw the silver liquid. Not once had her friend seen any residue at the bottom of Hermione's drinks and she began to think, that maybe she really was going insane. Perhaps I _should write father…he could probably find someone that knows what this silver liquid is_...

* * *

"If it isn't my future darling. How's it going Hermione, still looking for that mysterious potion only you can see?" Evan Rosier spoke up behind her, playfully ruffling through the irritated girl's hair.

"Don't call me that Rosier, can't you see I'm busy?" She ducked away from him and hastily swatted away his prying hands when they came near her now ruined braid again.

"Busy with doing what, quietly mumbling to yourself in a deserted corridor? Not the most charming quality a lady could have, but beggars can't be choosers, now can they?" She rolled her eyes at the boy's constant teasing, fully aware that his romantical feelings for her fit in a small thimble.

"I'm not mad Evan, and I'll prove it." He casually fell into step beside her, and together they made their way up the moving staircases towards the study hall.

Besides the library, it probably was Hermione's favourite place in the castle. Once they had passed a chattering group of fourth years, Evan spoke up again. "Of course whatever you say…darling."

Hermione hit him with her heavy book. "Evan! Stop it, you know I hate it when you call me that." After the winter holidays, the annoying Slytherin had started using silly endearments with her in public. Much to her mortification. Instead of stopping the boy though, her friends had actually encouraged it.

 _"Are you really telling me that you don't fancy that dashing boy?"_ Minny had asked her once when they were getting ready for bed, and Hermione had nearly choked on her toothpaste at her friend's question.

 _"Ew no, what the Hell Minny, that's just gross."_ Hermione had immediately answered, the thought of her and the Rosier heir being involved making shudder.

 _"Really, Mione? He's filthy rich, good looking and a pureblood what more could you want from a wizard?"_ Taken aback by Minerva's statement, Hermione had actually knocked her head on the faucet as she was washing her face.

 _"What does having magical parents has to do with anything? You're not even a pureblood yourself Minny."_ She had asked confused.

 _"Yeah, but you are, so you should not degrade yourself like my mother did when she married someone with lesser pedigree."_ She had answered quietly.

 _"That's just plain wrong Minny. Your Mother married for love, what more could you want in life?"_

 _"Come on Hermione, I know you're a free-spirited girl, but I'm old enough to know that your people tend to keep to themselves."_ Minerva had whispered, not looking Hermione in the eyes.

 _"How can you say that Minny, you know I don't give a damn about someone's blood."_ Hermione had been hurt by her housemate's comments. Unsure where all this was suddenly coming from.

 _"You wouldn't understand Mione. You don't know what it feels like to be worth less just because your parents aren't magical."_

 _"I- you don't-"_ Hermione had had trouble finding the right words in response to that statement. Before she could've said anything else, Minerva had already finished up and left the bathroom, leaving a stunned Hermione to herself.

Only a few weeks later would Minerva tell her about that sweet pureblood boy from a year above that had rejected her confession once he had heard that her father was a muggle…

* * *

"Anyways, have fun with your homework, Hermione. I definitely won't so why don't you just do mine as well, hm?" Evan asked, effectively tearing her away from her own thoughts.

Hermione scowled at the boy's cheek, not in the mood to continue their banter. "In your dreams, Evan, now go away so that I can finally get some work done."

Before she could stop the boy, he had already leaned down, giving her a small peck on the cheek. "See you later, darling, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Oh, and you should fix your hair, it looks ghastly."

Fuming, Hermione self-consciously ran her fingers through her tangled locks before catching herself again. Thankfully, no one seemed to have seen Evan's inappropriate behaviour. She couldn't believe that boy. He was worse than Fred and Gorge combined, those two had just been two wickedly charming pranksters, Rosier was turning more into an unashamed flirt that knew he was too pretty for his own good.

 _Honestly, the nerve of that git_. He had gone from being borderline cruel to Hermione in her first year to being overly touchy in her second, it was irritating, to say the least. She didn't have time for that boy's antics, trying to stay in Riddles good graces and not hex that brat into the next century was hard enough already.

"There you are. Did Slughorn know anything about that potion you're looking for?" Charlus whispered when she sat down next to him, but she just silently shook her head. _Writing Rodolphus, it is then_ …

* * *

 **April 1940**

Hermione stood outside the castle gates, waiting for her friends to arrive. How was it, that they were the ones bothering her to attend the next Quidditch match and then end up being late for said game themselves. She just didn't understand.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hermione! I had to pick up Dorea on my way." Minerva called from up the stairs, the girl in question following her quietly. "Charlus would throw a fit if his lucky charm wasn't cheering for him." Her friend continued while Hermione just scoffed at the youngster's cheesy antics.

 _Have I been this bad with Victor back then as well? Merlin forgive me if I was_. When they arrived at the field, she watched Charlus nervously ramble to the poor girl, amazed that the young Black could even keep up with his stuttering. It was somewhat endearing she supposed, but then, it also was really embarrassing to watch…

"The Winner is Hufflepuff with a total of fifty points!" A collective groan went through the Gryffindor side of the stands, and Hermione watched amused as her friend tossed his gloves towards the ground, frustration clearly written all over his tanned face. _Boys_. Hermione thought, happy that she could finally return to her homework.

"I'll go back to the common room, tell Charlus I'm sorry they lost," Hermione yelled over the loud cheering for the other team to Minerva.

Her friend only made a face at Hermione for leaving so soon, not approving of her apparent dislike for the game. _Quidditch fans_ …

* * *

 **June 1940**

The Summer holidays were finally here, and Hermione was excited to see Winny again. She'd searched extensively for clues about the silver substance in her drinks, but even Rodolphus hadn't found anything. It was getting more than a little frustrating.

She had even thought about asking Dumbledore, but Rodolphus argued that it probably wasn't the best idea to gain the attention of the famous wizard.

The younger witch had hesitantly agreed, trusting the older Lestrange and his promise to look for the potion himself. Hermione imagined that he didn't like his pawn being fed some strange potion either.

"Ready for the Holiday's Hermione? My parents' offer to visit still stands, just write. We'll probably see each other at your brother's wedding though." Hermione turned around to see Abraxas standing next to her, also waiting for an empty carriage to pull up.

She nodded, still not used to the thought that Rabastan was getting married. It felt like the three of them had just arrived in this era a few weeks ago, hearing about the younger Lestranges upcoming wedding sounded incredibly wrong in Hermione's head.

"I hope we will. I'll ask my father if a visit is alright with him. Riddle is staying over for most of the holidays, so I'm sure I wouldn't be missed that much." She joked half-serious, confident that as long as Rodolphus had his lord to suck up to, Hermione could leave the manor for a few days at least.

"I still don't understand what's so special about Tom. Yes, he can speak to snakes but still. It sounds like your father really has taken a liking to him." Finally, an empty carriage came to a halt before them, and Abraxas absentmindedly helped her get on before joining her himself.

Two younger students sat down across from them amicably chatting with each other, leaving the other two occupants to their own conversation.

"Don't ask me Abraxas, I'm just the middle-man." She said, hoping that he'd drop that particular topic.

"Let's stop talking about Riddle and get to the interesting stuff," Abraxas smirked at Hermione's questioning gaze, ready to tease the girl a little. "So, I heard from Evan that you two kissed?" He watched gleefully as Hermione's polite façade slipped.

"That narcissistic little twat said what?!"

* * *

 **End of the 2nd year and Hermione is still none the wiser…How convenient that the potion is clouding her judgment regarding anything Lestrange related…Finally, all the exciting stuff will start in 3rd year. Thanks for all the Likes and Reviews, some of you are awfully perceptive… I need to step up my plot game…xoxo**


	7. 3rd Year - Part I

**August 1940**

"I hereby declare Rabastan Lestrange and Loreen Mulciber husband and wife. May your Magic carry on strong, and your lives be long and prosperous." At the officiant's words, the hall erupted into loud cheers. Hermione watched the smiling pair bashfully entwining their hands before slowly walking towards the entrance of the beautifully decorated chapel. Her eyes wandered over the elegant flower arrangements that were lining the upper balconies and benches, the white gardenias sparkling.

Except for Bill's and Fleur's, Hermione had never been to a magical wedding before. So, when she'd been dragged into the tedious preparations for her uncle's ceremony, the young witch had quickly come to realise that this wasn't really her forte. She neither had the patience to sit in a room full of chatty witches fawning over cake toppings nor did she care to be honest. The past four weeks had been hell, and she was glad that the big day was finally here.

"Five Galleons that my brother will trip over the carpet again." Her father whispered in his seat next to her and Hermione quickly covered her mouth before someone could hear her laugh. Just as the newlyweds were about to exit the hall, Rabastan stumbled, and Hermione couldn't help but snort at her uncle's clumsiness.

"Alright, I'll pay you back home." She continued to clap until the pair was out of sight.

"You mean I'll pay myself, seeing as every single coin in our vaults technically belongs to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the man. "Why bet at all then? Just suggest something else next time."

They stood and followed the rest of the guests who were already making their way towards the extensive gardens, where the food was going to be served. At first, Hermione had been surprised when Loreen had told her that the wedding would be held in a chapel. She'd learned that the wizarding world had its own places of worship where some still honoured the old gods today. It made sense in retrospect, in school they'd learned a lot about the likes of Morgana and Merlin and the ancient rites, most of which were banned in today's times, but Hermione had never really connected those to their respective deities.

Once they found their table, Hermione sat down again, this time next to Loreen's younger sister. The girl was a year younger than Hermione but already looked like the fresco of a Greek goddess come to life. Golden tresses surrounded her youthful face like a burning halo in the setting afternoon sun, making her azure eyes stand in stark contrast to her pale skin. Hermione internally rolled her eyes at the girl's bright smile, her ridiculously white teeth nearly blinding the young witch.

"Hermione! Wasn't this the most beautiful wedding you've ever seen? I'm so jealous." Said girl just nodded, taking a deep sip of her water.

"I'm sure your wedding will be just as splendid as your sister's Estelle." Mrs Mulciber spoke up from her seat across from the two girls, her thin lips stretching into a reassuring smile. _I bet she's over the moon that her spinster daughter got herself the scion of one of the sacred twenty-eight_. Hermione thought to herself before discreetly trying to move her chair a little further away from her new family member.

"Now I wish I'd gone to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons, Hermione and I could've been best friends then." Hermione closed her eyes for a second, thanking everyone who might've listened for saving her from that hellish thought. Just as Estelle was opening her mouth to continue, the food appeared on their previously empty plates and thankful for the distraction, Hermione eagerly dug into her meal. She listened to the guest's idle conversations for a while, content that no one was addressing her for a change.

"How about you Hermione dear, is there any young gentleman that caught your eye?"

She shook her head ferociously at the older Mulciber's sudden question. "Of course not, I'm not even thirteen."

"Loreen told me you are very well… acquainted with the young Malfoy heir, wouldn't he be a good match?"

Hermione felt a little nauseous at the thought of her and Abraxas together. "Abraxas is more like a brother than anything else, so please don't assume anything." It was ridiculous how a witch's success in life seemed to entirely depend on whom she was married to, and it made her angry that the first question she always got wasn't how she was doing academically but which young wizards she was associating herself with.

"Of course, dear. Our Estelle here already caught the eye of a few admirers, we got two proposal letters this year." _And this surely hasn't anything to do with the fact that your oldest daughter is a Lestrange now_. Hermione wanted to say but wisely kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to start an argument at Rabastan's wedding, so she just put on her most convincing smile and nodded at the older woman.

"You must be so proud Mrs Mulciber. I hope you'll find a suitable match for Estelle in due time." She spoke, internally screaming at the woman's pleased look at her answer…

* * *

After the feast, Hermione found herself strolling through the enchanted gardens of the chapel, marvelling at the complex spellwork that had gone into creating the magical flowerbeds. She was admiring a fountain that had a dancing fairy made entirely out of gold on top of it when someone called her name.

"Hermione! Light of my life, nothing glows brighter than your radiant smile!" She scowled at Evans theatrical words and skilfully evaded the older boy's arms. Sighing she turned around to the beaming boy, only to find him towering over her suddenly much smaller form. _When did that happen_?

"Merlin, be quiet Rosier. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea." Grabbing his arm, the irritated girl pulled him away from the rest of the guests before letting herself fall onto one of the many benches that were set up around the gardens. Hoping that they'd have some time for themselves before anyone noticed their absence, Hermione let out a deep breath and leaned her head back.

"Spoilsport. I've been keeping myself together since eleven," Evan plopped down next to her.

She looked over to the older Slytherin, admiring the boy's perfectly smooth curls. _How can this be natural? Why doesn't my hair look like that_? She subconsciously wove her fingers through her own bushy locks, feeling the numerous potions Winny had put on in the morning slowly lose their effect.

"How're you holding up? Found yourself enjoying the domestic bliss of preparing a wedding?" He teased, knowing fully well, that Hermione would rather have a picnic below the deadly branches of the whomping willow than spend the day being poked and prodded at Madam Malkins.

"Very funny Evan, you wouldn't believe how much I'm enjoying myself right now."

He raised his blonde brows at her snappy answer, before giving her a light shove. "Cheer up, at least you seem to get along with your father a lot better now, I saw you two joking back at the chapel."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I guess? I haven't really noticed." She thought over their past interactions. The familiar warmth that spread through her body every time she thought about Rodolphus' pleased smile resurfaced as soon as she closed her eyes. At the memory of her father's praise she felt pride swelling up her chest and couldn't think of a single argument since her return home this summer.

"I was shocked when I saw you two today after what you've told me about him. I imagined him to be way…meaner." Hermione leaned her head onto her left hand. _Something about all this feels…off._ "I mean Brax told me, that Riddle was staying over the summer and I thought maybe that he's the reason your father doesn't bother you as much anymore but then again why?"

She absentmindedly listened to Evan's ramblings, not bothering to interrupt the boy just yet. "I get that he's a parselmouth but that still doesn't explain why your family is so overly welcoming towards him, in the end, you're Mr Lestrange's child, not Riddle."

Hermione turned her gaze back to Evan. "Riddle is just a means to an end for my father nothing more."

"Then why? What happened, that fixed your relationship so suddenly, I could really use some of those tricks as well as you know." He half-joked, his green eyes coldly reflecting her own thoughtful gaze.

"I-I'm not sure…" Hermione began, while uncomfortably scratching her neck. "We just stopped. No more fights, arguments or whatever. It just happened one day."

"When? Did you just come home and suddenly the world was okay again? Come on you know that things don't work this way." Evan replied sarcastically, and Hermione once again tried to think of a reason for the sudden change in their relationship. _When did we stop fighting over things_? She looked up to the cloudless sky.

"Maybe this mysterious potion of yours you're trying to figure out stops him from getting mad at you." He mused after few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Scoffing at this ludicrous idea, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's ridiculous, such a potion doesn't exist." She began, but Evan interrupted her.

"Am I really the only one of us that thinks it's weird that you're so relaxed about drinking an unknown substance every day? Don't look at me like I'm the mad one here!"

"It doesn't do anything, Merlin, I'm the only one who can actually see it, so who knows maybe it's not even real, maybe there's something wrong with my eyes." Hermione snapped back, in turn making Evan nearly fall off the bench at her sudden outburst.

"Blimey Hermione calm down, I was just joking, no need to get all hysterical over the matter."

Hermione wanted to slap the boy for his demeaning words, already forgetting the silver dust she had been finding in her drinks every now and then.

"Anyways, what did your father have to say about all this?" He asked, and Hermione raised her brows.

"About what?"

"That weird potion for Merlin's Sake, do keep up, would you?" Something in her mind shifted at that moment, and Hermione felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. _He wouldn't_ …

"Hermione, Hello? Anyone home?" Evan waved his hands in front of his friend's face, confusion clearly written all over his features. Hermione's mind was working feverously over the realisation she just had, and after a moment of silence she let out an angry yell, her fists hitting the wood beneath them.

"That lying, disgusting piece of shit." Evan flinched before carefully grabbing her shoulder. Hermione whipped around and shoved the boy off her, before standing up only to immediately crumble to the grassy ground.

Her throat burned from the bile that was rising up her chest, and she feared that she might get sick right on the floor. She saw Evan scramble towards her, unsure how to deal with the clearly distraught witch. His panicked face would've been quite hilarious if Hermione hadn't been so busy fighting down an emotional breakdown at that moment. It felt harder and harder to breathe, and her lungs burned as if she had just run a marathon.

"Hermione?" Evans insecure voice ripped Hermione away from her racing thoughts, the sudden shift in her head nearly giving her whiplash.

She was trying to form a coherent sentence over the thudding of her heart and the pounding blood in her ears. "I-I'm not feeling so good. I need to leave." She began while pushing herself back up from the ground, her white robes wrinkled, and her intricate hairdo dishevelled.

She absentmindedly cast a few charms on herself to avoid any gossip and was just about to hurry back to the portkey field when the person she wanted to see the least at that moment stepped into the secluded garden area, a stern looking man at his side.

"There you are Evan, the house elves told us that you two were enjoying some time away from the crowd." The stranger at Rodolphus side called, and Hermione watched her friend's eyes harden at the man's words, concluding that he must be his father.

"Hermione, everything alright? You look a bit under the weather." She gave the bastard her most impressive glare, trying to fight down the anger and humiliation she was feeling at that moment. The older Lestrange looked a little taken aback by her hostile reaction, before putting two and two together and crossing his arms, daring her to make a scene in front of their small audience. After a few seconds of silently glaring at each other, he raised one dark brow, but Hermione just grit her teeth together.

Sensing the animosity between the father-daughter duo, the other two wizards waited for them to finish their glaring match, the older Rosier quietly signing to his son to stand by his side. Evan slowly stepped away from Hermione and towards his father, still confused about what just happened. The last rays of sunshine covered the garden in a crimson hue. Hermione's dark brown locks seemed to move despite the lack of any breeze.

Evan swallowed hard as he watched his friends magic spark dangerously around her, once again in awe of how powerful she was. He could only name a handful of wizards that surpassed the raw magical power he felt around her. It was intoxicating.

"We will speak about this later. This is my brother's wedding, and we should respect him and his bride." Rodolphus finally spoke, his voice deceptively calm, but Hermione could feel the rage boiling underneath his skin. She had known the man long enough to know when his sanity was hanging by a thread. She was oh so tempted to cut it, but she couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt. No, she would wait. _And then I'll curse him 'till he doesn't recognize his own reflection anymore_.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to cause a scene." She smiled sweetly, watching Evan flinch out of the corner of her eyes. Out of worry or fear she couldn't tell.

"Very well, now, Hermione this is Lord Rosier, Evan's father." At the mention of his name, the older Rosier stepped over to her and Hermione curtsied as any prim and proper pureblood witch would.

"Pleased to meet you, Lord Rosier, thank you for attending my uncle's wedding, it's an honour to have you here." The older man gave her a curt nod, clearly seeing through her polite façade. A blind man could've felt the barely contained rage behind her false pleasantries, but it wasn't his business what went on behind closed doors. As long as she played nice, he'd do as well.

"You're pretty enough, and according to my son not one for gossip, so I'm sure you'll make a fine wife for Evan." The water in the fountain behind her froze at the man's degrading assessment. He was baiting her, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled up. Evan chuckled nervously at his father words, desperately trying to diffuse the tension between Hermione and his father, whereas Rodolphus obviously enjoyed his daughter's struggle to keep her calm immensely.

"Indeed, my friend, she'll be seventeen in no time, so your son won't have to wait too long." _Screw you, Rodolphus_. Hermione thought to herself, praying that this conversation would be over soon. She wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer.

"Shame that she's a Gryffindor, but what can you do. At least her blood is pure."

At that Rodolphus barked out a laugh, his deep voice carrying over the small garden like thunder. "Of course Rosier, as pure as the driven snow." Still chuckling at his own words Hermione scowled at her father, anxious to get away from the men that were talking about her like she was some pretty item.

She hated it. She couldn't wait until she was off age. Some day she will speak up for herself, and if she followed Riddle on his path to control the Ministry of Magic, she'd be free from any obligations just as Rodolphus had promised her. _Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to fight him, to end this madness_. But until then she had to play her part as the demure pureblood daughter to at least a certain extent, so she swallowed her pride and kept quiet…

* * *

"You Bastard spiked my drinks!" Hermione screeched, hurling a curse at the man standing across from her in the dark entrance Hall of Lestrange Manor. It was late, and the two had just returned from Wales after sending Rabastan and Loreen off to their Honeymoon.

"You disgust me! How could you this to me, I did what you asked me to do!" Another curse shot from her wand only to be repelled by a strong shield Rodolphus had cast. The crying girl hastily pulled up her own barrier and watched her spell explode into an array of dark purple colours on impact. Rodolphus send a series of wordless spells crashing into her wavering barrier causing Hermione to stumble back a few feet.

"It's your own damn fault girl! If you weren't so damn stubborn and just shut your mouth, I wouldn't have had to use the potion in the first place." Rodolphus yelled back while narrowly evading another one of Hermione's spells by throwing himself to the side.

"Screw you Rodolphus, taking someone's free will is the most humiliating thing a wizard can do!" She snarled; her vision blurry from her tears.

"Stupefy!" She watched Rodolphus block her spell and immediately send two more in his direction, hoping to catch the man off-guard with the third one. To her disappointment, he saw right through her tactic, and before she could react, her wand was ripped out of her hand with the flicker of his wrist, and Hermione suddenly found herself kneeling on the cold wooden floor.

"Damn it!" She yelled while trying to break the spell she was under before Rodolphus could reach her. The seething man strode towards her, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk as he watched her struggle against his binding spell.

"You always seem to forget Hermione, that I'm the better dueller out of the two of us." He knelt in front of her, grabbing her chin in a bruising grip. "The fact that you fought through the potion's haze is quite admirable. Pity. Just as I was beginning to find you tolerable."

Hermione pulled away from the man and rubbed her burning face, she had never felt so betrayed in her life. Everything that she had thought and felt over the past months had been tainted. Corrupted by that blasted potion.

"How long?" She whispered.

"Since the beginning of your second year. When you went to that Mudblood friend of yours, you had a short relapse but nothing that couldn't have been fixed."

Her hands began to shake at his words. She tried to control her rapid breathing but this only made her feel more nauseous in return.

Rodolphus watched her struggle for a few seconds before sighing and lifting the spell off her legs. "Winny!" He called, and the elf immediately appeared beside her catatonic mistress.

"Bring her to her room, she isn't allowed to leave until I say so." The elf's eyes darted between her Master and Mistress, before she hesitantly agreed, carefully grabbing the girl's shoulder before they both disappeared with a soft plop…

* * *

Back in his study, Rodolphus grabbed the nearest object his hands could find and smashed it into the wall with a frustrated yell. He threw the girl's wand into the farthest corner of the room before swinging his own, ripping the old tomes from the shelves that were lining the walls of his study and sending them flying through the room. Standing between hundreds of torn pages slowly sailing towards the ground, the former death eater grabbed his favourite whiskey and drank straight from the decanter before hurling the precious crystal container into the fireplace. He pressed his hands onto his face before eventually sliding down into his chair.

"Foolish girl, I should've killed her in that field back then." He hissed, trying to regain control of his raging emotions. He was angry. No, he was furious at Hermione and himself. He hadn't been lying when he had told her that he was beginning to feel more for the young witch than cold apathy.

During the past weeks, he had felt at ease for the first time in Merlin knows how many years. The way Hermione had been looking at him without the usual wariness in those amber eyes of hers- how she had craved his approval like any normal child would…It was exhilarating. He'd seen a glimpse of what his life could've been if there hadn't been a war, if his wife hadn't been a madwoman who'd rather drink poison than bearing him an heir.

When he had watched Hermione squabble with his Lord in the gardens one day, he had stood behind the window thinking to himself that he was, for once, content with how his life was going. He could see a future where Tom Riddle became the Minister of Magic and Hermione Lestrange, his daughter, his closest confidant.

The wizarding world would finally put the needs of its own people first and introduce laws that would protect their culture instead of diluting it in favour of those precious Mudbloods Dumbledore was so fond of. He sneered at the memory of the old Geezer announcing that several magical Holidays would be replaced with their muggle counterparts during his second school year, sending shockwaves through many parts of the magical community.

He remembered clearly how angry he had been that his little brother would never experience the same magical nights during Samhain as the older students, instead having to celebrate something called Halloween.

That drastic change had been the last straw for many people which had led to the growing resentment towards Muggleborns in their society and ultimately the rise of the Dark Lord.

"No use in getting upset again. We have the chance to make the world a better place, and I'll not allow that girl to ruin this opportunity." Rodolphus spoke determinedly to himself before standing up and retiring to his own chambers. He'd deal with Hermione later…

* * *

"Winny, please let me out, I just need to get out of the house. I won't go far, I promise." Hermione pleaded, but the small elf just wrought her spindly fingers while shaking her head.

"Master ordered Winny to keep Miss Hermione in her room, Winny is so, so sorry!" The elf wailed as big teardrops began to fall from her eyes. Hermione felt terrible for her continuous demands, but at the same time she had reached her limit and needed to get out of that stuffy room before she actually lost her mind.

She hadn't heard anything from Rodolphus in two days, and when she had finally calmed down enough after the first day of her involuntary confinement that she could eat without throwing her food up again, she became restless.

After collecting herself and sorting out her emotions she had felt ashamed, she still did. Someone who had never experienced what it felt like to lose control over their own thoughts and emotions couldn't possibly understand how violated one felt afterwards.

The knowledge that everything you had done wasn't of your own volition, that everything you'd felt towards a person was the result of a cursed potion. It hurt. And to Hermione, it was more humiliating than anything else. Now that the last traces of the potion had been eradicated from her bloodstream she could clearly distinguish between her own and the fake emotions in her memories.

"Winny please, I need some fresh air to clear my mind." _And get as far away from this madman as possible_. But her house elf stood silent. Finally losing her last straw of patience, she shoved the pathetic creature as hard as she could. "Fine, if you don't want to help then get out!"

She threw herself back onto her bed, hearing Winny whimper before snapping her fingers. Hermione grabbed the nearest pillow, threw her face into it and screamed as loudly as she could. Once she felt like passing out from the lack of air, she threw the pillow away from her, rolled on her back and closed her eyes. Just like every other time she immediately thought back to her conversations with Rodolphus and how disgustingly proud she'd felt, every time that foul man had praised her. She scowled, now feeling ill at those memories. The fact that she had simply stopped caring about the wickedness of the older Lestranges' plans was sickening.

Hermione groaned again, thinking that she would never be able to look at Harry and Ron ever again because of her traitorous actions. Everything they had fought for, the cause she had literally died for, and she all threw it away to help the man who'd killed not only her but so many of her friends and their families that he probably didn't even remember half of their faces.

Hermione was aware that he'd only upped the dose of the potion once she'd returned home because before that she could clearly remember some instances where she didn't feel nothing but admiration for the man but still. Those past two months she had basically played happy family with that murderer, so much that even Riddle had noticed her shift in behaviour towards Rodolphus. She remembered clearly now that one evening where they'd sat in the big library of the house, and he had asked her how she was suddenly such a perfect little pureblood daughter.

"Disgusting." She murmured when she thought back at how she had just laughed at him, telling Riddle that she didn't know what he was talking about.

A loud knock on her door ripped her away from her dark thoughts. "Go away Winny, I don't want to see you right now." She called, ready to get back to her thoughts again when her doors suddenly flew open and Rodolphus calmly strode into her room. Her bedroom. The one place she'd felt safe from that man and now he was standing in the middle of it.

Hermione felt her heart drop at the thought that he could enter her rooms despite the order that only she and Winny were allowed inside.

"No, get out. This is my safe space; you can't be in here!" She hissed, but Rodolphus just rolled his eyes at her statement.

"Says the one that regularly barks into my own private chambers regardless of the time and me prohibiting you from doing so." He sat down in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace, folding his long legs in the process. "Come here."

Hermione vehemently shook her head. She was still in her nightgown, and her hair must've looked insane after two days of not brushing it, but she didn't care, she wanted that man out of her room!

"Don't be a brat and come here, if you want to be treated like an adult than act like one."

She huffed at the man's jibe but got up, nonetheless. She may have been a little emotional over the past few days, but she was still Hermione Granger, a proud Gryffindor and she would act like it. She sat down opposite from Rodolphus and crossed her arms expectantly. "Can I go outside now?"

"First, we need to talk." Her father spoke, his pale Hands idly playing with Hermione's wand. The memories of what he'd done to her previous one made her jump up and snatch the precious item from his fingers.

"I was going to give that back to you anyways." He stated.

"Sure." She answered curtly.

They stared at each other for a second before Rodolphus let out a sigh and ran his hand through his dark locks.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "What's there to talk about? You played me and my feelings like a damn violin for the past months, and I'll never forgive you for that."

"I admit that it was a mistake. I won't apologise for it, but I'll promise to never make any attempts to manipulate you in that way ever again." He finally responded, and Hermione scoffed.

"I don't care, I'm done with this family."

The older Lestranges' eyes had widened at her declaration. He leaned towards her, holding the girl's unwavering gaze easily. "Really now? And where would you go? Not only are you a child, but there's also an actual war being fought outside our magical barriers."

Hermione bristled at the feeling of his knees brushing against her own and pressed herself further into her seat to get some distance between them again. "I'll find somewhere to stay, everything's better than living here, with you."

"You're being irrational Hermione. I thought you were the brains of your precious golden trio." Her father taunted, and Hermione felt the anger that she had so carefully suppressed welling up in her chest again.

She sprang up from her seat and began pacing in front of the fireplace, her nightgown billowing behind her whenever she turned on her heels. "I have every right to be Rodolphus! You tell me to act like an adult only to lock me up in my room for days as if I'm a petulant child, you expect me to deal with all of this as if it was just some minor argument we had." She finished all her anger at the world finally spilling over. "I'm turning thirteen in two weeks for the second time in my life and believe it or not, being a teenager sucks!"

Rodolphus watched her rambling for a while before growing tired of her seemingly endless complaining. "You Gryffindors always think that you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Have you ever thought about the possibility that Rabastan and I may have been more than evil death eaters at some point in our lives?" Hermione came to an abrupt halt at his bitter words before whirling around to face the man.

"Don't even start with that Rodolphus. You lost your chance of redemption the moment you took that mark on your forearm. You deserve every bad thing that happens to you, and I don't care about your sad childhood stories." The slap that followed her words caught Hermione so off guard that she nearly stumbled to the floor, but the enraged man had already grabbed her shoulders, almost crushing them under his steel grip.

"You are a spoiled, entitled little girl, Hermione. So, shut your mouth about matters you can't even begin to understand!" The young witch tried to shove the livid man off her, but it was to no avail.

Defiantly lifting her chin, she tried to get a hold of her wand that was laying on the side table behind her. "I know that you're a racist, a murderer, that you don't hesitate to torture or strike children and that you are as mad as a hatter. I think that is enough for anyone to think that you're not a good person Rodolphus." At her scalding words, he abruptly let go of the girl, pointing his wand at her instead. Hermione finally got hold of her own one and returned the gesture.

"How dare you, never in my life have I hurt a child!"

Hermione did a double take at his contradicting words. "Are you actually delusional you just struck me! You tortured me in the damn dining hall!"

"That's different, for one you're not actually a damn child and-" His words faltered for a minute.

Hermione threw her arms in the air. "And what?!"

"And you're my child for Merlin's sake!" He finally yelled back, and the girl felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.

"I'm not your daughter Rodolphus, never was and never will be. My Name is Hermione Granger, and your ritual might change my blood, but it'll never change who I am inside." She spat and wasn't even surprised when she felt the familiar pain of the Cruciatus tearing through her body.

"You'll not speak to me in this way, daughter, I wanted us to talk eye to eye today, I really did." He lifted the curse again, and Hermione collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I'll keep my promise, but seeing as you can't behave yourself, I have no choice but to punish you. Winny!"

"Why are you doing this? Please don't hurt her, she has nothing to do with this." She pleaded, but the after-effects of the curse prevented her from getting up from the floor to defend her elf.

"Because that's how children learn-that's how my father raised me and his father before." Hermione desperately shook her head, watching the elf appear in front of the man, her big eyes fearful of what was to come.

"No that's just cruel, if you want me to understand, then show me that you can do better." She watched Rodolphus' eyes glaze over for a second and took the chance to pull herself in front of Winny, encasing the shivering creature in her arms.

"Missy mustn't, Master will only hurt Miss Hermione more." The elf whimpered as she tried to pull away, but Hermione just tightened her grip on her friend. She watched Rodolphus come back to his senses and immediately scowl at the display before him.

"Get away from that elf, I will not repeat myself." Hermione just continued to stare at him defiantly.

"Very well, I hope my aim is as true as it was in my youth. Avada Ke-" Hermione threw herself fully in front of Winny.

"Please father, please don't hurt her." The title tasted like ash on her tongue after everything he had done, but she prayed that she could reach the man under all those layers of madness with her words. And to her great surprise, it seemed to work.

She watched Rodolphus halt his action, his wand slowly rolling from of his hand. The sound of the wood hitting the floor startled him out of his stupor, and his eyes found Hermione's own again. The older Lestrange's lips moved in silence as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find the courage to do so. Finally dropping to his knees, he ran his hands through his already tousled hair.

"I-Winny leave us." His voice sounded tired and Hermione gave her elf an encouraging nod.

Winny gave her Mistress a final worried look before obeying her master's orders and vanished with the snap of her unnaturally long fingers. With her elf, finally out of harm's way, Hermione felt her shoulder sack in relieve.

"I know that you must think I'm a monster, but all I want is a better future for our people." Instead of getting up, Rodolphus just shifted around a little so that he sat across from Hermione, his legs crossed, and his hands tightly pressed together. Still wary of the man's explosive temper she inched a little further away from him, her legs still feeling too heavy from the adrenalin to be able to stand back up.

"Our Lord will bring the magical world back to its former glory. You've seen it for yourself, he was born a leader, and he's our greatest chance to change things."

Hermione chewed on her dry lips, unsure how to deal with the distressed man a few feet away. That was new territory for her, never in her past three years in this era, had she seen him just break down like that, it was an unnerving sight. "Going after Muggleborns and supporting a man that spreads hatred isn't a better future in my opinion."

Rodolphus frowned, "If you'd grown up in the magical world, you'd be appalled by how the Ministry is trampling over century-old traditions just because people like Dumbledore think they're dark or unsuitable to teach our children about."

She didn't agree with his point of view, "Me being a Muggleborn doesn't mean that I'm blind, I know that many of the Ministries' policies aren't very well thought through but-" His eyes found hers again. "-I think that as times change, people have to do as well. With the rising number of Muggleborns and Half-bloods in our society, it's only fair to include their views and needs as well." She finished, knowing that the older Lestrange wouldn't understand. His views were so ingrained into his head, that even if he saw all the good things those changes brought with them, he'd still be in denial.

"I've lived with you long enough to know that you'd never change your mind, even if the truth were staring right into your face," Rodolphus spoke, sounding bitter.

"I can't continue living like this Rodolphus, I'm so afraid every time you lose your temper, and I can't do anything about it because you'll hurt my friends if I don't comply," Hermione spoke with an unwavering voice, determined to at least come to an understanding regarding this particular issue. She knew that he had some serious problems, but Rabastan was a great example that people could change at least to a certain extent if they genuinely wanted to.

Even though she didn't really like Loreen, the woman was playing an essential role in her uncle's life now. She had been the one that had turned the young death eater into the tolerable human being who had saved Hermione from Rodolphus' wrath on several occasions in the past. He'd promised to move back to the manor with his new wife, once they returned from their Honeymoon since Lestrange Manor was spacious enough to house ten people comfortably but Hermione could still see, that his younger brother's shift in priorities and the new addition to their household was bothering Rodolphus.

Hermione had been surprised by Rabastan's rapid change from loyal brother to loving boyfriend and later husband so she could only imagine how the older Lestrange must've felt once he'd realised that his brother was building himself a life that went far beyond their original plans. She turned her attention back to the older man in front of her.

"It's easy to forget, that you were a grown woman once." Rodolphus began, "I'm not used to being questioned, it's just not done in our circles."

Hermione twisted her mouth at his statement, not impressed with his arguments. "I'm not a child."

"To me, you are. I am your guardian. Even if we returned to our own time, you'd still be a Lestrange." Hermione recoiled at his words. Despite her heritage, the man seemed to have grown somewhat fond of the idea of her being his daughter, and on some level, she could even understand why.

Objectively speaking, he was clearly someone who took pride in his family and with him and his brother being the last heirs to the Lestrange line in their own time, she could see why he would want to have someone to continue their legacy. But that still didn't make him a good parent, or even a decent one for that matter. If Hermione hadn't been used to violence and the psychological trauma from being involved in an actual war, she wasn't sure if she would've survived her stay with them.

Rodolphus' answer to every issue was force, and his stay in Azkaban seemed to have unhinged him to an extent where he clearly didn't have full control over his mind anymore. He could be pleasant, her memories of the past two months showing that as long as everything went according to his plan, he'd be nothing but calm and collected. But as today had shown, one step out of line and all reason was lost. The fact that Hermione just wasn't one to back down when she was feeling wronged wasn't helping either.

"Even if I'm your daughter now, I'm still my own person. I have every right to be treated fairly." Sitting up straight on her uncomfortable place on the floor she continued. "If I'm helping you with your mission let me have my own opinion, let's agree to disagree on some things, but for Merlin's sake you have to stop cursing Winny or me just because you're angry."

He frowned at her plead. "You dare to question me still?"

Hermione flinched, her limbs felt heavy, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep herself up for much longer. After two days of barely eating anything and only a few hours of sleep, the curse had taken much more out of her than she'd thought. "Please…father. How about we give our wands to the house elves when we're both home?" Without her wand, she'd feel vulnerable no doubt, but knowing that Rodolphus wouldn't be able to curse her either was reassuring enough.

"Forfeiting my wand in my own house? I'll have to think about it. Let's continue this discussion later." Not giving her a chance to reply, Rodolphus got up from the floor and made his way towards her door.

Hermione felt as if they hadn't come to any agreement at all, when she tried to pull herself up, her vision began to swim, and she felt her legs tremble from the after-effects of Rodolphus' Cruciatus. Taking note of her struggle, the man turned around and carefully lifted her up, making Hermione in turn choke on her breath at the foreign touch.

"What the-" Before she could finish, Rodolphus had already set her down on her messy bed again and proceeded to tuck the speechless girl in. She watched flabbergasted as he patted her pillow before gently pushing it under her head.

She visibly flinched when his hands pulled away some of her locks from her tearstained cheeks but felt too exhausted to defy the man. _Why is he doing this all of a sudden_? She thought tiredly, her mind already drifting into blissful unawareness. The last thing she saw was Rodolphus waving his hand, closing the heavy curtains in front of her tall windows…

* * *

Rodolphus watched Hermione's breath even out as soon as he had closed the curtains, slowly stepping back from her bed. His mind was still reeling from their conversation, but the harder he tried to see past her young face and view her as the grown witch she was, the more difficult it became to accept that she was not his real daughter but Potter's Mudblood. Not only had she killed his allies but had also been tortured by his mad wife at one point.

His eyes wandered over her small form, all he could see was his and Rabastan's hair on her head. Her pale complexion that looked so similar to their late mother's that if anyone would've told him that Hermione wasn't his, he would've laughed at them.

"Pathetic." He murmured to himself before finally coming back to his senses and hurriedly leaving the sleeping girls chambers. As he stormed down the corridors towards the fireplace in the entrance hall, he made a decision.

What he had done to the girl hadn't been right, he could see that now. It had only alienated her further, and that was not what he'd wanted to achieve. He stopped in front of the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder.

Even if she didn't see it that way yet, she was his child now. His responsibility. Even though his primary goal still was to support his lord, there was something else now that he had to take care of, or rather someone. His daughter. Rabastan would have his own brood in no time, no doubt, but he still wouldn't make any of his brother's sons his heirs, if he had the smartest witch of her age and one of his Lords most trusted at his disposal.

"Rosier Manor" He spoke clearly, feeling in dire need of a drink and someone his own age to talk to.

To his surprise, he rather liked the father of that Evan boy and found himself enjoying the other man's company a lot. He hadn't been alive in the future, so he'd never met the man, but he distinctly remembered the day when he saw his son being hit by a stray curse during the first war. The Rosiers were a respected and influential family, and with the death of the last member of their house, their century-old legacy had practically been erased overnight. It was the first time he'd thought about his own house and how tragic it would've been if neither he nor his brother had produced any heirs. Now they had the chance to change the fate of their family, with their other relatives still living in France, they'd finally be able to continue their line for more than one generation.

It wasn't how he'd expected his life to turn out, but it didn't bother him nearly as much as it once had, to have a former Mudblood for a daughter…

* * *

 **October 1940**

Hermione sat next to Charlus and Minerva, quietly enjoying her dinner. She listened as her best friend tried to explain to Charlus how one could become an Animagus, clearly frustrated with the dense boy.

"No, you can't decide what you want to be. It just happens." She lectured, and Hermione smiled at Charlus' disappointed pout.

"But what if you're something really boring like I don't know…a cat?" Hermione choked on her potato.

"What'd be wrong with being a cat? Better than a mouse if you ask me!" She bristled, and Hermione found herself laughing at the intimidated boy.

She was glad to be back at Hogwarts after her falling-out with Rodolphus, and even though the man had tried his best to act civil around her, she still didn't trust him after what he'd done. She'd celebrated her birthday at Minny's house and had stayed there until their first day of school. Rabastan had returned with his blushing bride the day she'd left for Hogwarts, and as it was their tradition by now, had sent her off at the train station, clearly aware of what had transpired between herself and his brother. He'd apologised and Hermione appreciated the gesture although she was still cross with him for not helping her in the first place.

"Alright, everybody done? I wanted to play some exploding snap before bed," Charlus interrupted Hermione's musings, and together they made their way back to the common room. Just as they were climbing up the stairs below the Portrait of the fat lady, a voice stopped them.

"Lestrange, a word?" Closing her eyes for a second before turning around to face the boy, Hermione tried to hide her annoyance behind a pleasant smile.

"Riddle, good to see you again, give me just one second to put my books away." She didn't want to carry her heavy bag around for Merlin knows how long, so she followed her chatting friends through the portrait and shoved her bag into Minerva's arms.

"Could you take care of that for me? I need to speak with Riddle for a moment." Her friend just looked sceptically at Hermione, still not entirely sure what to think of her friend associating with that many Snakes.

"Sure thing Mione, but if you start hanging out even more with those Slytherin boys, people will surely start to talk, so be careful alright?" She knew Minny was referring to her weekly meet-ups with Riddle and Malfoy as well as her growing friendship with Evan. Rolling her eyes, she nonetheless agreed before hurrying back to Riddle.

"Thanks for waiting, so what is it?" She asked once she had reached the pale boy. She was still a little irritated, that the polite and charming student that he pretended to be around everybody else had decided that she apparently wasn't worth the trouble. _Probably because he trusts me, I should get a medal for that alone_.

"I didn't walk all the way from the dungeons for a little chinwag, follow me." He responded with that authoritarian voice of his that he'd seemingly perfected over the summer. Just like Evan, he'd also grown like a weed, standing at least two inches taller than he had before the holidays.

Because his birthday was in December, he'd already turn fourteen this year, making him only one year younger than Evan, and sweet Merlin, it showed. Compared to most of the other boys in their year, he looked decidedly more mature, the seemingly small age-gap now much more apparent in his deep voice and sharper features. She followed Riddle down to the dungeons where he led her through several corridors before stopping in front of one of the old classrooms that probably hadn't been used in decades due to the ever-shrinking number of children attending the school. She hesitantly entered the room after Riddle, a strong sense of foreboding overcoming her once she spotted the other people in the candle-lit room.

They'd pushed some of the old tables together, forming a square to sit around in the middle of the classroom and Hermione tried to force her growing anxiety back down as she realised what all this was probably about. _I need to calm down; I knew this would happen sometime around this year and I've been preparing myself for three years_. She looked over the familiar faces of Abraxas and Evan, the latter giving her a small wave before letting her eyes wander over the other occupants in the room. She recognised a few of them, Antonin Dolohov and Cygnus Black were already sitting at the table whereas a few others were standing in small groups around the room. They were nine in total and except for Dolohov and herself exclusively Slytherin. _Oh, joy_.

"Right, now that we're all here, let's begin the meeting." Riddle started, and Hermione sat down with the others, claiming the empty seat beside Evan's as her own.

"So, he invited you as well, I should've known." Her blonde seat-neighbour whispered.

"You know it's always been my dream to be part of some pretentious little boy's club." She murmured sardonically as they waited for everybody to settle down. Abraxas, who had heard their little exchange chuckled at Hermione's comment, and she flashed the other boy a quick smile over Evans' shoulder.

"You all know why we've gathered here today, this school's defence against the dark arts lessons are all in all pitiful, making us easy prey for ruthless wizards like Grindelwald and his followers, who won't wait for you to cast a disarming spell." Hermione furrowed her brows at Riddle's words, surprised that this seemed to be some sort of duelling club more than anything else. _I've expected speeches about one's own superiority and anti-muggleborn propaganda, not this_. She felt an odd sense of Déjà-vu as she listened to Riddle talking about the importance of being prepared for everything and that text-book spells wouldn't be enough to fight off a dark wizard. It felt a lot like the first meeting of the DA. Minus Riddle's fixation on restricted and illegal spells and the whole purebloods and preferably boys only thing obviously.

"From now on, we'll meet every Tuesday and Sunday at eight to train, understood?" Everyone nodded their heads. Riddle looked satisfied with that answer and began to get up when the boy sitting next to him cleared his throat.

"With all due respect Tom, but I just don't understand what that Gryffindor chit is doing here. This is supposed to be a duelling club." The rude Slytherin boy spoke up, crinkling his nose as he looked her up and down. Hermione drew in a sharp breath, before catching herself and shooting him her most intense glare, she'd never seen him in any of their classes so she figured that he must've been in Evan's year.

"Lestrange is probably stronger than most of you, so I'd be careful of my next words Avery." Riddle drawled, surprising Hermione by taking her side over his housemate's.

"As if that whimsy little witch would stand a chance against me." Avery drawled, his dark eyes once again scrutinising her appearance. He curled his lips as he took in her wild curls that looked so different from the neat hairdos of her female classmates and Hermione found herself getting irritated at the older boy. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she was thinking, Evan beat her to it,

"Watch it, Avery, you insult her, you insult me." At his dramatic choice of words Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend, she was capable enough to deal with that pompous git on her own.

Evan looked genuinely offended on her behalf, and it warmed her heart to see him taking her side, whereas the rest of the boys wisely stayed quiet.

"So that's how she got in, is she your girlfriend or something Rosier?" Cursing at the other boy's assumptions, Evan abruptly stood up from his chair, pointing his wand at Avery who in turn drew his own. Before anyone else could react, Hermione took matters into her own hands, and the older Slytherin's wand flew from his grip. Spluttering the boy turned back to her and Hermione decided to go a step further, swinging her wand again.

"Avis." She spoke sweetly as she watched the boy from her seat. Evan took a step back as countless chirping birds appeared around herself and Hermione enjoyed the incredulous look on Avery's face for a second longer before raising her wand again.

"Oppugno." At her command, the birds charged at the Slytherin who in turn let out a sharp yelp while throwing his arms over his face to protect himself from the sharp beaks that were tearing through his outer robes. _Those teenage boys won't understand any other language than that_. She thought as she watched the other occupants of the room scrambling to get out of the birds' path. While Abraxas was openly laughing at his housemate's demise, Evan had looked at Hermione awestruck. The girl giggled at the speechless boy before eventually growing tired of Avery's continuous shrieking.

"Finite." Another voice spoke before she could raise her own wand and she watched curiously as Riddle shot her an unreadable look before walking towards the cowering Slytherin and pulling him up on his collar. Avery shot her a baleful glare which Hermione easily reciprocated.

"You'll regret this Lestrange." He seethed before Riddle shoved the boy towards the door.

"You can show us your skills on Sunday then Avery, until then you'll refrain from causing a scene outside this classroom, we don't want people like Dumbledore to notice anything." Riddle looked at the other boy with a stern gaze until he agreed, clenching his jaw at his order and clearly feeling humiliated by Hermione's actions. _Serves him right_. After Avery, had stormed out of the room with his friends, the others had started to leave as well until there were only Riddle, Evan and herself left. Narrowing his piercing eyes at Hermione, the leader of their small group took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of her.

"Interesting spell choice, Avery will not go easy on you." Hermione scowled,

"I've confidence in my skills Riddle but thanks for worrying." They looked at each other for a second before the other Slytherin answered.

"You know I don't, here's a list of books I need 'till Sunday, so you better hurry." He passed her a small envelope before turning on his heels without another word, leaving Hermione and Evan to themselves.

"Thanks for your help Hermione – of course, you're welcome Riddle," Hermione muttered while sliding the list into her robe's pocket. Evan chuckled at her little rant as he put his wand back into his sleeve before looking down at Hermione again. Tilting her head at the surprisingly solemn look on his face, she patiently waited for the boy to address what was bothering him.

"You could've at least given me the chance to hex him before you took matters into your own hands." His sparkling eyes betraying his serious expression and Hermione laughed at the sulking boy.

"I don't need a knight in shining Armor to defend my honour but thanks for caring Evan." Before Hermione could escape his annoyingly fast hands, the boy beside her ruffled through her hair.

"I know, so good thing I'm a wizard and not a knight then, right?" He teased, and Hermione swatted his arm.

"Oh, shut up Evan." He threw his head back and laughed as Hermione tried to control her beating heart, feeling her cheeks grow hot at the boy's words. _What am I doing? He's a future death eater. Get yourself together Hermione_ …

* * *

Once she had returned to her own rooms and put her nightgown on, she threw herself onto her bed with a quiet groan, putting her hands over her flushed face.

"Not even thirteen for two weeks and those stupid hormones are already ruining my life." She crawled under her heavy bedcovers and buried her face in her pillows. _Puberty sucks_. She thought as she slowly fell asleep, Evan's bright green eyes haunting her even in her dreams.

* * *

 **Hogwarts is starting on the 1st of October in this story because I'm stupid. Don't you just love some quality father-daughter bonding time? Poor Hermione is developing her first crush…Any bets how long Tom will put up with Hermione being distracted by another boy? Would he even care? I mean 14 yo boys are always known to be perfectly reasonable beings, right? Tnx for all the lovely reviews, I love hearing your opinions and predictions for this story xoxo.**


	8. 3rd Year - Part II

**November 1940**

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Avery might be useful in the future, so swallow your false pride and let him win tonight." Feeling her face heat up at Riddles offhand comment, she shot him her most impressive glare, before making her way towards the door of the secluded classroom they were currently arguing in.

"I'll not lose to that prick Riddle, see you later." Just as she was about to reach for the door handle, she felt a searing pain running up her arm, causing her to abruptly pull her hand away from the handle.

"What the hell Riddle?!" Still rubbing the burning limb, she turned around and watched as the Slytherin leant back in his chair, the same cold expression on his handsome face that he'd worn when she'd first met him. _I didn't even know he could do wandless and wordless magic already, how can anybody be that powerful_? Annoyed at the boy's silence she raised a brow, signing him to explain himself.

"You seem to be under the impression that since I haven't done anything to you yet, that you can just go around and do whatever you want Lestrange." Hermione's body grew cold at his words, and she could actually feel the knot in her stomach tightening. It was so easy to forget who that boy would someday become when you looked at him now. Just a few days away from turning fourteen, he seemed so young to Hermione. To think that he'd murder his father in a couple of years was unimaginable to her.

"Are you threatening me, Riddle?" She asked, her face frigid with tension. She was aware that she was walking a fine line with the boy right now.

"Aren't we friends Hermione? Do I really have to treat you like one of those dim-witted boys?" He had stood up during his question and took Hermione's clammy hands in his. They felt rough against her own soft skin, and as she tried to free herself from his bruising hold, Hermione realised that this boy wouldn't bat an eyelash even if Avery was cursing her to Azkaban and back. It was depressing, really.

"Let go of me Riddle, if you truly think of me as your friend you'll not allow Avery to hurt me."

"I didn't say he could hurt you, I just told you to let him win the duel tonight." Hermione had finally managed to tear her hands away from Riddle and continued to frown at her classmate.

"If he can't handle a little witch like myself, why would you even need him?" She spat, quoting Avery's words from a few nights ago. Rolling his pale eyes at her stubborn words, Riddle pushed back a few dark curls that had escaped from his neatly coiffed hair before speaking up again.

"His family belongs to the sacred twenty-eight, they hold a lot of power in the ministry." He spoke calmly, despite Hermione's obvious irritation and continued to look deep into her eyes. _As if I'd still fall for his pathetic manipulation attempts_. She knew that she'd lost their argument the moment she'd followed him into the abandoned classroom but that didn't mean that she would just let him allow Avery to hex her to hell and back. Sighing she folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.

"If I let him beat me, I want another favour in return, no questions asked when I come to you." She'd need a lot of those for the day he'd take over the Ministry if she wanted to go against his follower's awful worldviews. She doubted that she'd get a lot of support from them for her causes.

"You want to go into politics after school right? I don't see any other reasons why you'd care about his opinion so much." She questioned the boy in front of her as if she didn't already know his answer.

"I thought about becoming a teacher at Hogwarts first, but our meetings with Abraxas have made me realise that the wizarding world is in dire need of some changes." He began, and Hermione tried to keep herself from openly frowning at his condescending tone.

As of now, he wasn't even old enough to vote let alone know anything substantial about politics. Having experienced both sides of the Ministry's bigoted politics as the Mudblood friend of the great Harry Potter and now as the heiress to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, she was quite familiar with how the magical community worked. _For every step Muggles take towards a prosperous future for everyone, the magical world takes two back_. Changing the mindset of a society where people tended to live well into their one-hundreds was a challenge that not many people were willing to take. Adding the influence of the old families with seats in the Wizengamot to that, it was damn near impossible to pass any law that introduced modern values.

When Hermione had first read up on the laws regarding muggleborn rights in the future she had been appalled, in this time she'd nearly set the book on fire. Muggleborns were still treated as second-class citizens that had to get the ministry's permission for every little thing, and the bill for equal treatment would only be introduced in the early 1980s as far as she knew. And if this wasn't already awful enough, witches weren't even allowed to hold seats in the Wizengamot or vote until the end of the sixties. From a legal perspective, Hermione literally belonged to her family until she was married and after that, she'd have to get her husband's approval for things like opening a Gringotts Account or funnily enough getting a divorce. When she'd read that particular passage, she had wondered if whoever had written the bill a few hundred years ago did so because his own wife had wanted to leave him. Hermione could only think of a handful of other things, that were more laughable than this particular law.

"Lestrange, are you listening to me?" Riddle's voice pulled Hermione from her silent fuming and shrugging her shoulders at the boy she told him to continue.

"I'll grant you another favour but don't forget your place, Lestrange. Magical prowess or not, you'll never stand eye to eye with your male peers." Hermione knew that Riddle hadn't meant this as an insult but rather a reminder that she wouldn't find any support from his ranks. He'd expressed his irritation at the Ministry's archaic laws on multiple occasions, but his words still stung. Clearing her throat Hermione locked her eyes with his and leaned forward.

"When you take over the Ministry you could change that." Something akin to a smirk played over the boy's lips, and Hermione nearly did a double take at the foreign expression.

"Well, in order for me to do that, you'll have to lose against Avery first, so you decide what's more important to you; your freedom or that irritating Gryffindor pride of yours." He knew he had her. Hermione could see it in the way his face lit up triumphantly at her sour expression. She was seriously impressed with his ability to push all her right buttons, even though she knew of his manipulative nature. He did it in such a casual manner that she wasn't even that angry about losing against the other Slytherin anymore. _He'll have the Ministry under his thumb before they even realise what happened_. Taking a deep breath, Hermione offered him her hand.

"I'll do it, Riddle, just don't forget your words in the future." He nodded and together they made their way back towards the great hall for dinner. Hermione squeezed herself between Minny and Charlus who shot her questioning looks at her tardiness, but she just waved them off.

"I forgot my quill set in the astronomy tower." She spoke between filling up her plate and sipping on her pumpkin juice and to her relieve her friends believed her...

* * *

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione allowed the boy's spell to hit her, watching silently as her wand hit the ground. Avery barked out a triumphant laugh and rolling her eyes at the irritating boy, she bowed before picking her wand back up from the floor while shooting Riddle a subtle glare. Pretending not to notice her scowl he turned to Avery who was still smirking victoriously at her.

"Told you I wouldn't lose against a little witch." He boasted, and the other boy's in the room laughed. She waited silently for Riddle to congratulate the boy and after he did so, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Avery.

"You won fair and square Avery, I'm sorry for attacking you a few days ago." Despite knowing that she could've easily beaten the boy, she still felt humiliation churning in her stomach, causing her to feel queasy. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the group and cry into her pillow at the unfairness of it all and she blamed her treacherous hormones for her unusually strong reaction to a simple lost duel. Regarding her with a dark glare, Avery left his small circle and took a few steps towards her.

"If you weren't a Lestrange I would've hexed you green and blue. Be grateful that you have Malfoy and Rosier backing you." He hissed into her ear, and Hermione recoiled at his spiteful words. She wasn't sure what he had meant with his last words, but it was clear, that if it weren't for her social standing, she would've ended up in the hospital wing that night. Before she could answer Avery, she was suddenly pulled back and found herself standing behind Abraxas.

"That's enough Avery, you proved your point so leave Hermione be." Irritated at the blonde boy's interruption, she tried to speak up, but Abraxas shot her a warning look and taken aback by this uncharacteristic move she pressed her lips firmly together. Avery scoffed at her but didn't say anything else and instead returned to his own little group of cronies. Abraxas' shoulders seemed to relax as the other boy turned around and again Hermione wondered why he'd interrupted them. She listened absentmindedly as Riddle declared the meeting to be over and watched as the other boys slowly left for their dorms until only Abraxas, Rosier and herself were left.

"You let him win, why?" Abraxas finally asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, causing Hermione to jump at the sudden noise. Turning towards the two boys, Hermione tried to find the right words, but her thoughts were still clouded by the anger and frustration she was feeling as a result of losing to their housemate. In an effort to ground herself she bit the insides of her cheeks until she could taste blood, while nervously twirling her wand in her numb hands. She didn't dare to look at them in fear, that she'd start crying if she had to explain her pathetic reasonings. Yes, she had done it on her own accord, but she still hated losing, especially if she knew that she did so because somebody else told her to.

"It's Riddle, isn't it? He's the only one you'd listen to." Evan snarled, and Hermione gulped, he hadn't used that voice with her since first year. Abraxas turned to look at her with wide eyes, apparently not believing his friend's accusation. Before answering them, Hermione quickly turned around and closed the door of the dimly lit room. Sitting down at one of the tables in the middle of the room, the two Slytherins followed suit and waited patiently for Hermione to collect her thoughts.

"I don't know how much Abraxas has told you Evan, but I first met Riddle at an Orphanage in London. After my father found out about Riddle's ancestry, he ordered me to keep close to him." Evan's green eyes seemed to glow in the flickering lights of the chandeliers above their heads, but before Hermione could lose herself in them, she hastily cleared her throat. Telling herself over and over again that he'd only turn fifteen next month and she was a grown woman.

"Having the favour of the heir Slytherin can be very beneficial later on, as you said yourself, Evan." Scoffing at Hermione's last words, the other boy sat up a little straighter.

"Does he want you to marry that half-blood Hermione?" He asked angrily and bewildered at his sudden turn of thoughts, she vehemently shook her head.

"What? No, why would you think that?"

"Because otherwise, you wouldn't have to listen to his every whim. Heir of Slytherin or not, he's still just a half-blood and not entitled to your obedience." Abraxas who had kept quiet until now spoke calmly, and Hermione didn't even know how to respond to his words. They were wrong on so many levels that she found herself speechless at his arguing's.

"Merlin, his blood status is by far the least thing that is worrisome about Riddle." She finally responded.

"That boy is more powerful and ambitious than your entire house combined and he won't take a no from anyone. Not you or me, nobody will stop Riddle on his quest for power and crossing him will only end with you at the bottom of the Astronomy tower." Hermione explained, her cheeks red from the anger and dread she was feeling. She needed them to understand, that Riddle was way out of their leagues, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if they got hurt for speaking up against Riddle in her name. She had promised herself all those years ago, that she'd make sure that Abraxas wouldn't end up on the dark side and now she was actively telling him to listen to Riddle. It was tearing her apart inside.

"Calm down Hermione, Riddle is just a third-year with an aptitude for the dark arts, not a second Grindelwald." Evan tried to reassure her, clearly taken aback by her apparent distress. Hermione rubbed her eyes in an attempt to soothe her growing headache before regarding the two boys with a serious look on her face.

"You don't know what he's capable of Evan. You just have to believe me when I tell you that he's more dangerous than you think, please." Her words had grown into a whisper over her small speech, and she had felt the tears burning behind her eyes before they rolled down her hot cheeks, leaving a salty trail behind them. Faced with the horror of a crying witch, Abraxas cursed before hastily conjuring a simple handkerchief which he offered to the sobbing girl. Evan looked ready to punch someone, it was the second time he had seen Hermione cry, and she thought it was somewhat ironic that the future death eater had seen her cry more often than Ron had in seven years. Was she really that pathetic?

"I could've beaten him with one spell if Riddle hadn't told me not to." She spoke between sobs and suddenly felt someone lightly hitting her on the back of her head.

"Are you seriously bawling your eyes out over losing to Avery? And here I thought it was a serious problem, Gryffindors." Evan took the forgotten handkerchief from her and continued to carefully clean her tear streaked face. Leaning uncomfortably close to the suddenly flustered girl, Hermione tried to pull away from him, but Evan reached for her shoulder, effectively keeping her still. Hermione breathlessly watched his lips moving silently against each other in an attempt to control his anger and nearly let out an embarrassing sigh when his warm hand trailed over her jaw to pull an escaped lock back behind her ear. _Merlin, save me_.

"Everything is going to be alright dear, your beloved fiancé will protect you from Riddles evil clutches." At his teasing words, Hermione spluttered, abruptly slapping his hand away from her face. Laughing at her crimson stained cheeks, the older boy discreetly put the handkerchief into his pocket and turned towards Abraxas, who had quietly watched their exchange with an unreadable expression on his aristocratic face.

"I don't think Hermione appreciates your advances particularly much Rosier." He drawled and said girl eagerly agreed.

"He does that every time. Calling me all sorts of names in public, it's embarrassing!" She complained, her previous grief all but forgotten. Evan continued to chuckle at her expense, causing her to roll her eyes at her friend. The three of them joked for a few more minutes before leaving for their respective dorms to avoid being caught outside after curfew. Hermione felt like she was able to breathe again after their conversation and as she threw herself onto her soft bed, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of Abraxas' panicked face when she'd broken into tears in front of the poor boy...

* * *

 **December 1940**

"I'll see you in January guys, don't forget the Potion's assignment!" Hermione called after her waving friends as they left with the Potters. Minerva was staying with Charlus over the Holidays, and she felt a pang of jealousy for the other witch before quickly schooling her features again. Turning around she looked up to Rabastan who, to her surprise, had come alone this time to pick her up and grabbed the older man's arm before he apparated them away.

Back at Lestrange Manor, Hermione immediately felt that something was off. When she spotted Loreen in the representative sitting room at the front of the house in her emerald robes, that had probably cost more than what Arthur Weasley had earned in a year, her heart plummeted.

"Hermione child, I'm so sorry that I couldn't come to the station but as you can see I'm a little indisposed at the moment." Hermione's gaze stopped at the woman's carefully concealed midsection. She had endured enough pureblood lessons to know what maternity robes looked like. She felt like she might get sick.

"We just passed the first trimester, and naturally we wanted you and Rodolphus to be the first to know." Loreen's smile was so overwhelmingly joyful that Hermione wanted to do nothing more than take the woman's teacup and throw it in her face. She could only imagine how her father must have reacted to the news, knowing fully well, that he too was somewhat envious of the nice life his younger brother had built himself over the past years. She felt awful at her thoughts, but at the same time, she was furious that he was allowed to enjoy his new life while she struggled every day to keep her head over water. She flashed the other woman a strained smile not bothering to walk up to her even when Rabastan subtly pushed her in his wife's direction.

"Congratulations Aunt Loreen, I'm so happy for you two." She forced herself to say before quickly turning around, trying to ignore the woman's upset words to her husband.

"Just like her father, the two can't stand me can they Ra..." Hermione hurried up the stairs and fled to her rooms. When the doors silently closed behind her, she let out a tense breath and then continued to rip the pillows from her bed, throwing them across the room with an angry yell. _It was so fucking unfair_. He was a convicted mass-murderer and death eater, and he still got to live this great life with more money than one could spend in three lifetimes, a pretty wife and now even a damn child. He had thrown her down at his brother's feet when he'd captured her, and now he was playing house with his perfect pureblood bride instead of rotting in a cell in Azkaban like he should have.

"They don't deserve to be happy!" She seethed, kicking one of her bedposts only to regret it the moment her toes collided with the hardwood. Cursing she grabbed her throbbing foot, massaging it in an attempt to sooth the pain.

"They really don't."

"What the-" Hermione whirled around towards the armchairs in front of her crackling fireplace. There, with a glass of fire whiskey in one hand, her father sat with a dark look, not turning his gaze away from the flickering flames that lit up his unshaved face. Dumbstruck, the girl hobbled towards the man who had broken into her room again, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"What in Morgana's name are you doing here Rodolphus? You can't just break into my room and foster your drinking habits!" At her incredulous voice, Rodolphus finally turned around and let his eyes wander over Hermione's dark robes.

"You look more and more like Bella the older you get, it's quite unnerving." He drawled over the brim of his glass, before throwing his head back and downing the entire drink in one go. Hermione tutted when she realised how smashed the man already was and hurriedly took the empty glass from him before he could throw it at her again. She had given Winny her wand the moment she'd set foot into the house after the elf had happily told her, that Rodolphus had done the same but she still felt more than a little uncomfortable around the intoxicated man, wandless or not.

"I'm serious Rodolphus, what are you doing here?" If this was going to become a habit of his, she'd have to move to another room, and maybe hire an Auror to set up some stronger wards that would keep the older Lestrange out. Rodolphus just raised his hands at her question and shrugged his shoulders.

"Things are going to change around here very soon Hermione, there is going to be an actual infant in this house, and with the two downstairs permanently moving in, we can't even fight properly anymore." _What the actual hell._ Hermione thought quietly to herself as she watched the former death eater slowly falling apart in her bedroom. What had happened to reduce the ruthless man to this warped version of himself in a matter of a few months? Hermione slowly sank into the seat across from him, careful not to do anything that could cause the man to snap.

"I really think we should move this conversation to your study Rodolphus." At her suggestion, the man just grimaced. Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze back to the fire.

"I knew this would happen sooner or later, but it was still a shock when they came to me yesterday." He began, unsure of how to approach this subject.

"It still feels like a cruel joke that he has the privilege to enjoy his life while I'm doing my damn best to ensure that his offspring will even have a future." He spat, and Hermione failed to keep herself from frowning, but instead of lashing out Rodolphus just laughed mirthlessly at her sour expression.

"I reclaimed the Lestrange seats in the Wizengamot two months ago, brought our family back into the upper circles of the magical community and we're on the best way to prevent another war and what do I get in return?" The clock in her room struck eight at that moment, and Rodolphus waited for the low sound to stop before continuing his rant.

"My brother thinks he can just bury his past, my daughter refuses to call me father and our Lord has to live with those filthy muggles in a city threatened by war." Hermione listened silently as the man rambled on, unsure how to act. Rodolphus sank back into his chair, his hands tightly grabbing the two armrests. A house elf appeared next to them with a silver tray hovering behind him and served first Rodolphus then Hermione some tea and biscuits before quietly excusing himself again.

"I have done many awful things in the past but why is it, that only I have to repent for them?" Hermione flinched when he threw his cup into the flames, watching as it shattered against the back of the fireplace. _I don't know how to deal with this, I'll for sure not console that man_.

"Wanna know a secret Hermione?" Rodolphus pulled himself up and leaned towards the tense girl.

"I named you primary heir to all my titles, when I abdicate you'll take over all of our seats in the Wizengamot." Hermione's breath hitched at his quiet words, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Trying to sort her racing thoughts she balled her hands into fists.

"How? Witches aren't allowed to own seats." She eventually managed to say, causing Rodolphus to smirk wickedly at her in return.

"I took advantage of one of those many laws from the dark ages. If a family hadn't had any sons, they could name one of their daughters' primary heir if she left all of her _womanly duties_ behind and became a son in all but you know what obviously." He explained gleefully, making Hermione wonder why exactly he would go to such lengths to make a Mudblood his successor.

"Womanly duties, seriously?" She questioned, and Rodolphus barked out a laugh.

"They didn't even describe the meaning of it anywhere so we can just interpret it however we like." He answered, and Hermione nodded.

"But what about Rabastan's child? Won't the baby inherit all the titles automatically if it's a boy?" Rodolphus shook his head.

"No, once they are off age, they may challenge the current primary heir in a duel, but that is something you won't have to worry about for a while, if at all." Hermione was still reeling from the implications of Rodolphus' decision and tried to think of a reason for his actions.

"Why?" She finally asked, and her father tilted his head in deep thought.

"It will be you that our Lord trusts when he takes over the Ministry, not Rabastan or me and also because as my child it's your right to claim those seats, you're a capable witch and an actual war hero, so you're more than qualified to inherit my titles." Speechless at his praise Hermione felt a lump forming in her throat, he had spoken with so much conviction that it had genuinely felt like it was her father praising his daughter. She'd never expected that the man would one day come to see her as his actual daughter and in return, she hadn't expected to see him as anything but the death eater that had tried to kill her. It felt surreal to sit with him in her room, having an actual conversation.

"Rabastan doesn't know?" She asked, confused that he would make such a big decision over his brothers head.

"Merlin, no. They will hear about it when I make it official next year, he deserves at least some form of punishment for abandoning his duties towards this family." Rodolphus growled under his breath, and Hermione realised that his brother's shifting priorities had hit Rodolphus much harder than he had let on. She wondered how her uncle would react when he found out but couldn't bring herself to feel bad for him. He already had gotten so much more joy from this life than the other two time travellers, it was only fair that Hermione got a slice of the cake as well.

The two of them sat together for a while longer in silence, caught up in their own thoughts before Hermione remembered that she was not okay with Rodolphus staying in her rooms and determinedly shoved the man out of her bedroom...

* * *

On the 31st Hermione wrapped the presents she had gotten for Riddle's birthday in the most hideous wrapping paper she could find and sent Winny to deliver them discreetly. She had gotten him two sets of robes that would continue to grow with him, knowing that he despised the hand me downs from the orphanage. She had also ordered a new school uniform for the same reason and purchased the entire book list up until seventh year so that he wouldn't have to use the old school books Hogwarts provided for poor students.

Rodolphus had wanted her to send even more, but Hermione had argued that it would only make Riddle feel like he was a charity case, which he wouldn't appreciate at all. She waited until Winny returned, telling her Mistress that Riddle had received his presents, before turning in for the night, feeling anxious about what the new year would bring...

* * *

 **March 1941**

The past three months had gone by in the blink of an eye, and without any warning, Hermione had suddenly found herself in an empty corridor evading another one of Avery's hexes.

"You're the reason the Rosier's aren't backing my father's policies anymore Lestrange, you'll see what happens to little witches that can't keep their noses out of a wizard's business." Another spell hit Hermione's wavering shield, the red sparks dancing dangerously close around the edges of her translucent barrier. Scoffing at the boy's words, she fired her own round of nonverbal spells, her veteran mind forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be able to do those yet, watching satisfied as the hexes found their target.

Avery let go of his wand with a yelp as it grew hot in his hands and threw Hermione a nasty glare.

"Been training have we? Scared that Tom will drop you like hot coals the moment you're not useful anymore?" Baring her teeth at her opponent Hermione didn't notice the Slytherin reaching for his wand.

"Diffindo!" He shouted, and Hermione felt the spell slicing through her robes and into her left shoulder. Much to Avery's surprise, the girl didn't even blink as the spell cut deeply into her arm. Blood began to drench her white blouse, and he watched gaping as the young witch shot him a baleful glare before turning on her heels, probably making her way to the hospital wing.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you Lestrange?" He called after her retreating form, but the girl didn't even falter in her steps...

* * *

In the hospital wing, Hermione explained to the worried matron, that she had been hit by a stray hex when she had walked into a disagreement in her common room and the gullible witch had only nodded before treating her still bleeding wound. Still fuming on the inside that Avery had managed to hit her again, the girl quietly waited for the matron to finish.

"One-moment dear, I need to pick up some herbs from Professor Slughorn for your tonic." Hermione nodded, watching the older witch leave before leaning back on the hospital bed, determined to rest up a little.

"Lestrange, I heard that my housemate accidentally hit you with a charm and brought him here to apologise to you." Opening her eyes at the cold voice beside her bed, Hermione found Riddle and a fidgeting Avery at his side, standing in front of her. The older boy looked suspiciously pale, and one didn't have to be a genius to see that he'd been tortured in some way. His sudden change in complexion, bruised circles under his dark eyes and trembling hands were a dead giveaway, and Hermione knew, that Riddle had wanted her to see that Avery had been dealt with. She pursed her lips, against her better judgement, feeling bad for the older boy.

"How nice of him, I'll forgive him this once." She spoke graciously, subtly checking the boy over for any clues what curses Riddle might have used on his housemate. After ensuring that no one else was in the hospital wing, Riddle's charming smile fell from his lips and was replaced by an angry scowl.

"How could the two of you be so reckless, if one of the professors had found out about our club we could've been expelled. I expected better from you two." Irked that he was blaming both of them, even though Avery had attacked her first, Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself when she suddenly found herself under the excruciating pain of Riddle's curse. Tightly pressing her lips together in an attempt to keep quiet, the girl endured the pain of the unfamiliar curse for a couple of seconds before Riddle lifted it again. Pulling herself up from the floor, she regarded Riddle with a freezing glare. She could see Avery trembling from the corners of her eyes, clearly not being used to the after-effects of torture.

"Despite what some people might think in our little group, there are no favourites, so don't test my patience. You can get at each other's throats during our meetings but never again do I want to see any of you throwing hexes at each other in public, understood?" The two of them nodded silently, Avery nervously averting his eyes, whereas Hermione openly glowered at Riddle. Regarding them both with a final glare, Riddle put his wand back into his sleeve and left for dinner.

When he was out of earshot, Avery whirled around, his head between his hands and his breathing laboured. He was clearly having a mild panic attack, but Hermione just couldn't be bothered at that moment. She was furious at Riddle for cursing her, and it took all her willpower not to storm after the boy and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"Shit, I didn't know Riddle was such a psycho. Merlin, how can you just stand there Lestrange?" Avery asked incredulously, while Hermione was still staring at the spot where Riddle had stood with a scowl on her pale face.

"What do you want me to do Avery, have a little crying session with you?" She hissed before the boy could say anything else, watching him jump at her question. He fell silent for a second, contemplating her words when it seemed to have finally hit him.

"You knew...You knew he was like that from the beginning, didn't you? That's why you're in the club because he's threatening you!" At his accusing tone, Hermione threw her hands up in defence, wondering why so many people seemed to make assumptions about her and Riddle this year. First Abraxas and Evan and now Avery as well.

"Think what you want Avery, I don't have to explain myself to you. Too bad you're already in, it's too late to run now." Not in the mood to wait any longer for the matron to return, Hermione grabbed her robes, pushing past Avery who was still standing uncomfortably close to her and making her way towards the exit.

"You're a real bitch you know that?" He called after her and Hermione let out a hollow chuckle at his insult.

"See you next Thursday!" She replied cheerfully, relishing in the choked curses he spat after her...

* * *

 **April 1941**

A week after her encounter with Avery, Hermione had successfully managed to avoid Riddle as well as Evan and Abraxas by leaving right after their classes and meals had ended. Minerva and Charlus had noticed that something had happened between the Slytherins and her but hadn't pressed her for answers because they were actually good friends and Hermione enjoyed her time away from the toxic Slytherin crowd tremendously. With all the madness that had been going on at home and in the club, Hermione had nearly forgotten, that the rest of her friends were enjoying a beautifully average school life.

"So, when you get home the baby will already have been born?" Minny asked, and Hermione nodded while taking another bite of her scone.

"You must be so excited to not be the youngest in the manor anymore, maybe you can finally sneak away sometimes and come to visit me." Hermione listened to her best friend's ramblings, quite content with just occasionally shaking her head or nod. The topic about her future cousin was still not her favourite thing to discuss, but she had come to the decision to make the best out of the situation instead of letting the resentment for the prospective parents poison her mind any further. It wasn't the baby's fault that his or her father was a proper bastard and she would not hold his actions against her unborn relative. She was above such pettiness.

"What do you want it to be, a girl or boy?" Charlus asked from across the table, and Hermione furrowed her brows at his question.

"I don't really care, as long as it's healthy, I'm happy." Her friends nodded in agreement even though Minny looked like she wanted to say something else. Noticing Charlus throwing her a silent look Hermione grew suspicious of their secretive behaviour, drumming her nails expectantly on the table, quietly telling them she was expecting an answer. After a few tense seconds Charlus finally gave in.

"If it's a boy, he'll inherit everything that's previously been yours and Minny here thinks that this is somehow awful, even though you'd still be entitled to not only your dowry but everything your father puts down under your name except the titles." Hermione watched Minny rolling her eyes at Charlus' poor explanation, touched that her friend was feeling offended for her.

"It's a stupid rule, Hermione shouldn't have to lose her titles to someone else just because he was born a wizard," Minerva argued, and Hermione couldn't agree more. She caught Charlus' eyes with hers, pointing her butter knife at the boy.

"If your parents told you that you're no longer the heir to the title of Lord Potter because your aunt had another daughter, how would you feel?" She asked, causing Charlus in turn, to look at her like she was the mad one on the table.

"Why would they do that, I'm the heir, the other child wouldn't have any rights to a title that's been mine since the day I was born." Regarding the boy with equally deadpanned expressions, the girls waited until he understood what he'd just said.

"I mean...oh." It had finally clicked, and Charlus at least had the decency to look ashamed for his previous words. Satisfied Hermione nodded before turning her attention back to her dinner...

* * *

 **June 1941**

"Hermione meet your baby cousin, his name is Edwin." Trying to keep the little bundle that Loreen had pushed into her arms from falling from her awkward hold, Hermione stared at her new cousin's wrinkly face. She'd never been a big fan of babies, preferring children that could already communicate through more than head splitting wails and use the bathroom themselves.

"He looks just like you Loreen, congratulations." She carefully handed Edwin back to his glowing mother before slowly stepping towards the doors, in hopes of finding a way to escape from the room without anyone noticing. Rabastan was standing beside his wife, his eyes sparkling every time his son made a sound. It was just as sweet as it was sickening to watch.

"Really, your father said the same. I personally think he looks more like Rabastan." _He looks like an overgrown raisin wrapped in a blanket_. Hermione thought but smiled at the other woman nonetheless.

"I'm very happy for the two of you if you need anything just tell me." Loreen nodded smiling, but Hermione could sense that she was disappointed with the reception of their new family member. Even if she hadn't expected Rodolphus to be over the moon, she'd probably thought, that as a girl Hermione would have fawned over the baby just as much as Loreen did. Having been a spoiled only child in the future, Hermione was definitely not used to sharing her position, some deeply buried part of her subconsciousness telling her from the moment she had set eyes on the baby, to despise the new addition to their family.

She gave them another tight-lipped smile before leaving the ridiculously large nursery of the new Lestrange scion. On her way towards her room, she decided that she needed some time away from the manor and took a turn towards Rodolphus' study.

"May I visit Abraxas or Evan, depending on which one of them is available?" She asked Rodolphus, who was looking just as excited about their new family as she did and waited.

"Under one condition." He answered, and Hermione scowled.

"What do you want?" She asked in return.

"You'll call me father from now on, not only in public but private as well." Hermione drew in a sharp breath at this unexpected request and hesitated.

"It's either that or staying with the baby for the entire summer and assisting Loreen with everything she might need." He threatened, and Hermione found herself nodding before her brain had even registered the movement.

"Deal, I'll see you father." And with that, she left his study in search for Winny. After she'd found her elf, she asked her to inquire if the Malfoy's would welcome her at their house for a while and after twenty minutes, her elf had returned with a small sealed envelope with the Malfoy crest on its back.

She tore the letter open and quickly scanned over the contents of the message from Mrs Malfoy, delighted that they had accepted her request. Winny prepared her small bag while Hermione changed into one of her more formal dress robes, determined to make a good first impression at her meeting with the Malfoy Matriarch. Much to her demise, she still didn't own a single coloured robe, even though Loreen had promised to buy her some new clothes. _Guess the baby took priority over my dreadful wardrobe, figures_. Brushing her hair back into a simple updo Hermione was satisfied with her looks and made her way towards the fireplace in the entrance hall.

"Malfoy Manor." Without saying her goodbyes to the other occupants of the house, Hermione vanished in the green flames, eager to get away from the wailing sounds that were echoing through the halls...

* * *

"So you're the girl my husband told me about, it's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione, my name is Camilla Malfoy." The elegant woman standing before her was without a doubt the reason for the good looks of her descendants and Hermione was amazed at how much the woman looked like a female, more refined version of Draco. She had the same high cheekbones and pale eyes as her great-grandson but what struck her the most was her smile. If she'd just looked at her mouth, it was as if she was looking at her former classmate.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Malfoy, you have a lovely house," Hermione replied, not recognising anything from her unpleasant stays at the manor in the future. The entrance hall was filled with soft colours and exotic plants from all over the world, making it hard to fathom that in just a few decades the manor would turn into the dark place from her memories.

"Oh call me Camilla dear, I'm not my mother-in-law." Mrs Malfoy led her through the seemingly endless corridors of the manor towards the sitting room where she ordered Hermione to make herself comfortable while the house elves served them a small array of snacks. Sitting down on one of the crème coloured Récamière's below the tall windows in the room, Hermione helped herself to a sweet sandwich from the tray in front of her.

"My husband will return later tonight, and Abraxas will be home the day after tomorrow, so, for now, we can enjoy the silence." Hermione nearly spluttered at the woman's words, suddenly feeling awkward about her presence without Abraxas here with her. She wondered why the woman had even invited her over if her son wasn't home and sensing Hermione's sudden discomfort the woman chuckled.

"It can be hard adjusting to another child in the house, especially when it's always been just the three of you." The woman seemed to be a natural at reading situations as well as people and impressed by her deduction Hermione flashed her a shy smile.

"Thank you for understanding, I know I should feel bad about it but to be honest I just really needed some time away from the house after meeting him." She didn't know why she was telling the woman anything, but every time Mrs Malfoy looked her in the eyes, Hermione felt like spilling her deepest and darkest thoughts to the woman. It was quite disturbing. Instead of scolding Hermione for her words the Malfoy Matriarch inclined her head, her familiar eyes full of compassion.

"No need to get upset dear, you will be finding yourself enchanted with the boy soon enough, and until then you're welcome to stay with us." Maybe it was a pureblood thing to let their children just stay with other families for a prolonged amount of time, or the Malfoy's had some other ulterior motives, but Hermione wasn't one to look a gifted horse in the mouth and accepted the woman's offer gracefully. After their tea, Hermione was shown to her room which was located in the guest wing of the manor, and Mrs Malfoy told her to be ready for dinner at eight, before leaving Hermione to her own device. _Nothing more fun than having dinner with my friend's parents_...

* * *

The silence at the table was deafening, and Hermione could not think of a more uncomfortable situation than dinner with Lucius Malfoy's grandparents. Septimus Malfoy looked just as intimidating as he had when she'd first met him in Diagon Alley, and the man seemed to feel completely fine with the lack of conversation around the table. Eventually, Mrs Malfoy seemed to be fed up with the awkward atmosphere and set her cutlery down on the plate with an audible sound. Sighing at his wife's not so subtle hint, Mr Malfoy turned towards Hermione, regarding her with a calculating stare.

"Has your father already discussed your share of the Lestrange Estates with you?" He asked, probably assuming that with Edwin's birth, Rodolphus had dealt with her parts of the inheritance swiftly, adding another reason for Hermione to feel bitter about the situation at home. Her father had told her that he'd make the big announcement on her fourteenth birthday in September, so she decided to wipe that patronising sneer from the older Malfoy's face by telling him the good news a little earlier.

"Everything." She answered curtly, making the Malfoys in turn nearly choke on their dinner. Mr Malfoy had actually stopped chewing on his steak while his wife had managed to keep up her pleasant façade. Taking a generous sip from his wine glass, the Malfoy Patriarch watched the girl across from him with a raised brow.

"Everything as in..?" Smirking into her own glass, Hermione answered,

"Everything as in all of it. The vaults, the estates, the titles and our family's seats." She could practically see the gears turning in Mr Malfoy's head, probably regretting whatever betrothal contract he'd written up for his own son. With her being named primary heir she had just gone from an excellent match to jackpot. Her husband would not only gain control over one of the largest fortunes on the isles, currently only matched by the Malfoys and Blacks, he'd also gain two additional seats in the Wizengamot, giving whatever family took them, more power than any other House in the court.

"I guess Rodolphus took advantage of one of the old laws, that without a doubt, will be prohibited after your case to keep the Wizengamot a democratic institution?" He drawled, and Hermione nodded. Mrs Malfoy began to chuckle as they realised that Rodolphus had meant every word back when her son had visited the girl for the first time. Septimus had to give it to the man, it was a daring move.

After that revelation, Hermione continued to answer every question the Malfoys were firing at her, their dinner long forgotten. For the first time since her arrival in this time, Hermione had felt like she was being taken seriously and words couldn't describe how awesome that had felt...

* * *

She ended up staying at Malfoy Manor until her birthday. Her hosts had organised a small party in their extensive gardens, and it had been by far the best birthday she'd had in this era. She had even been allowed to invite Charlus and Minerva. The two girls having spent most of their time during the party, catching up on each other's lives. When her friend had heard of her nomination as primary heir, she had tears in her eyes.

"I'm so happy for you Hermione, now you can really do whatever you want. You could travel around the globe, and no one could stop you." Minny said excitedly, and Hermione laughed at her friend's enthusiasm.

"I know, Minny, trust me I know"...

* * *

 _19\. 09. 41_

 _UPROAR IN THE WIZENGAMOT; HERMIONE LESTRANGE NAMED PRIMARY HEIR INSTEAD OF HER COUSIN EDWIN LESTRANGE!_

 _The current Head of House Lestrange has caused a proper scandal in the rows of our highly esteemed court. His only daughter Hermione Lestrange (14), born to her two unwed parents in France has been named as his successor. Making her the first witch since Morgause Bagshot in 1708, to own two seats in the Wizengamot. For more Information turn to Page 3..._

* * *

 **Eyyy, 4th year is coming up! Finally, we can go for a little more mature action and some good old Riddle off the rails stuff with the Chamber of Secrets being opened. Who thinks the Malfoy's are going to try and snatch Hermione away? Will the Ministry just accept Rodolphus' nomination? And what about Rabastan? Stuff will get really serious really soon xoxo.**


	9. 4th Year - Part I

**October 1941**

Autumn had come to Hogwarts. The leaves of the surrounding trees had changed from green to vibrant shades of red and yellows, continually swaying in the cold winds that had replaced the warm rays of the sun for weeks now.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione enjoyed the crisp smell of fallen leaves while idly listening to her friend's excited chattering.

"I can't believe he really asked me out Mione, I mean he's a Prewett!" Minerva turned around to face Hermione, her cheeks flushed from the cold air. Her eyes sparkled at the mention of her new boyfriend, who Hermione had yet to be introduced to. As of now, all she knew was that he was a Gryffindor and one year above them.

"You'll like him for sure, he's a very talented potioneer." Her friend promised as they continued their walk over the Hogwarts grounds towards the small alcove near the forbidden forest where he was waiting for them. Hermione didn't know why he'd chosen such a secluded spot, nor did she particularly care. As long as the boy treated her friend right, Hermione didn't have a problem with him. When they'd finally arrived, the first thing she noticed was his fiery hair. The older boy was a few inches taller than Minerva and greeted the two girls with a warm smile that seemed to brighten his entire freckled face. _He looks quite alright I suppose_. He moved to shake her hand, before inviting the two girls to sit down.

"It's great to finally meet you, Lestrange, Minny has told me so much about you."

"Only good things I hope, and please call me Hermione." She replied.

"Gladly, it's surprisingly difficult to get a hold of you without any of those Slytherin friends of yours following close behind." Chuckling at his words, Hermione shrugged her shoulders apologetically whereas Minny just scoffed.

"It's gotten even worse this term, I fear that she'll leave us behind for good soon." Her friend complained theatrically, causing Hermione to roll her eyes in return. "I wouldn't dare, Charlus would be devastated."

"Well, I hope that you'll stay true to your words then, Hermione." She watched as her friend entwined her slender hand with her boyfriend's, slightly taken aback by the intimate gesture. Despite being a grown woman, at least mentally, her endless lessons in this era were forcing her to see the seemingly innocent gesture in a much more drastic light than she'd have in the future. _Merlin, they've been together for what, two weeks_? Hermione came to the harrowing realisation, that at nearly fifteen, her supposedly innocent friend was a far cry from the ten-year-old girl she had once enjoyed tea in town with.

"So how did this happen?" She vaguely gestured at the pair in front of her, the memory of her distraught friend after telling Hermione about the same boy rejecting her two years ago, still fresh in her mind.

"We met in the library a few weeks ago and talked for hours." Minerva began, and Hermione gave her friend an encouraging nod.

"Well, after that Ignatius asked me if I would like to go to Hogsmeade together and now we're here."

"Ah, so that's where you went, I was wondering why you'd cancel our plans on such short notice," Hermione answered, thinking back to her dreadful day with Avery and his cronies after she'd literally run into them in the small village. After Minny had hurriedly excused herself back then, she'd found herself browsing through a small bookshop when she'd bumped headfirst into the older Slytherin who of course quickly took it upon himself to ruin her day.

"Are you really still mad about that Mione?" Minny looked at her with pleading eyes.

"No, it's alright Minny, I'm very happy for you two." She spoke earnestly, pleased that her friend had found someone that appreciated her fierce personality. Promising to herself, that she would do her best to support her friend, she pushed her lingering irritation with the boy to the back of her mind and smiled warmly at the pair.

"Thank you, Hermione, your blessing means a lot to me," Minerva spoke, and her boyfriend nodded eagerly.

"Same goes for me, thank you for trusting me with your best friend." Pulling Minerva a little closer, the older Gryffindor regarded her with a small smile which Hermione quickly returned. As long as the other girl was happy, she'd be as well...

* * *

 **November 1941**

The first time Hermione had observed Ignatius Prewett silently ushering some other girl than Minerva into a seemingly empty classroom, she'd given the boy the benefit of the doubt and blamed her overly paranoid mind for being suspicious. She hadn't told Minerva anything and continued her day as if nothing had happened. The sight that greeted her now though wasn't as easy to dismiss as the first incident.

Internally cursing the boy, Hermione followed him up the stairs to the third floor, carefully minding her steps. She watched him turn around with narrowed eyes, quickly pressing herself into one of the dark alcoves lining the candle-lit corridor. Feeling at ease, the boy turned towards the girl's bathroom, knocking once while hurriedly brushing his hands through his tousled hair. Trying to calm herself, Hermione grabbed her wand a little tighter as the door opened to reveal a young Ravenclaw girl, Hermione had seen maybe twice in the great hall. She was most likely in the same year as Prewett and had such a forgettable face, that Hermione couldn't even begin to understand how the boy could go behind Minny's back with someone that had the same appeal as a mug of cold tea. _Bastard_.

"Where have you been love, I've been waiting for ages." The girl pouted, and Hermione had to suppress a gag when the boy pulled the girl into his arms, pressing his traitorous lips on hers. Giggling she dragged him through the door while Hermione wondered who'd ever think that a bathroom was a romantic meeting spot.

Chewing her dry lips, Hermione contemplated how to deal with this mess. Minerva would be devastated once she found out and Hermione knew that she'd think it was her fault that he'd cheated on her. She'd had a crush on the boy since their second year, and he'd already rejected her once, a second time would be even more hurtful. _I'll hex his balls off if he dares to even look at Minny again_. Feeling her patience wearing thin with the two other students, Hermione made a decision. Waving her wand at the bathroom door, it immediately flew open, and she listened with deep satisfaction as the sinks and toilets began to spill over, flooding the entire bathroom in a matter of seconds. It only took a few moments before the two stumbled into the corridor, their dishevelled clothes drenched.

"What in Merlin's Name?!" The Ravenclaw screeched as she struggled with the small buttons on her now very transparent blouse.

"Olive, please calm down, let's just find another spot and dry off before someone sees us." He pleaded but the girl- Olive seemed to have had enough for the night.

"Don't touch me, Ignatius, this isn't worth the trouble, I bet one of your other flames did this!" She spat, before angrily turning around and leaving the speechless Gryffindor behind. After a few seconds, he seemed to catch himself and hastily put his jumper back on.

"Whoever did this, come out now!" He bellowed, and Hermione took this as her cue to reveal herself. Pulling off her most vicious sneer that would've made Lucius Malfoy proud, she stepped out of her hiding spot. Upon seeing her, his face grew pale, and he raised his hand in a pleading gesture.

"Hermione, please let me explain."

"Shut up!" She hissed, not wanting to hear any of his poor excuses.

"Please don't tell Minerva, it's for her own sake, she loves me." He tried to reason, causing Hermione, in turn, to point her wand at him.

"How dare you to cheat on my best friend you little git?" Anger welled up in her chest as she listened to the boy's pathetic rambling, her hand itching to hex the boy. Eventually, Prewett seemed to realise, that Hermione wouldn't let him off the hook and quickly changed tactics.

"She won't believe you, Minerva told me about your issues with sharing things, how's your little cousin by the way?" Hermione felt her heart sink at his words, shocked that her friend would tell the boy those secrets. _How could she_?

"It's her beloved boyfriend's words against yours, the jealous best friend that feels like Minerva doesn't deserve to be with a pureblood and wants to keep her for herself." He taunted, his once warm smile turning into an ugly sneer. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to collect herself. The frigid water from the bathroom had begun to flood the corridor as well, finding its way into her polished shoes and drenching her tights. Hermione scowled.

"You'll go to Minerva in the morning and break up with her, tell her that you love her and that it's not her fault." She began, her wand still pointed right at his chest. The boy dared to laugh in her face, and she went cold with anger.

"And what exactly makes you think you can tell me what to do Lestrange?"

"Don't test me, Prewett, it won't end pretty for you." The boy scowled at her threat, not realising how outmatched he truly was.

"Let's make a deal, you stay out of my business, and I won't convince Minerva that you're a horrible friend." Hermione had to use all her willpower not to curse the boy. _Be rational about this, Tom will have my head if I get caught hexing a fellow student_.

"I won't repeat myself, do as I say or face the consequences, Prewett." The boy pursed his lips at her words, clearly not impressed by her answer.

"Accept it, Lestrange, I've won. If you want to keep your friend, you'll let me go right now." He began moving towards her, the water around his feet rippling with each of his steps. Hermione felt her control slip at his victorious smirk, and before she could stop herself, her lips had already moved.

"Incarcerous." Thick ropes appeared around the shocked Gryffindor's arms and legs, and he suddenly found himself on his knees. Hermione scowled at the seething boy, somewhat underwhelmed by his lack of reflexes.

"Minny told me you play Quidditch, I would've expected you to at least try to evade my spell." She mocked him, feeling smug at the sight of his incredulous face. Idly twirling her wand, in the same manner, she'd seen Rodolphus do countless times, she waited for him to speak.

"When Dippet finds out about this, you'll regret your little temper tantrum soon enough." He hissed through clenched teeth, the ropes cutting deeper into his arms with every move he made. Internally seething, Hermione stepped towards the boy and kicked him square in the chest. He fell backwards into the freezing water with a surprised yelp before Hermione lowered herself towards his face, her wand painfully digging into his jugular.

"I don't think you understand the situation you're in Prewett. Your family may have some money, but one word from me, and your father won't have a job tomorrow." She spoke with a deceptively calm voice, feeling disgusted with her own behaviour, the years she'd spend in the company of the Lestranges had evidently left a mark on her character.

"And you call yourself a Gryffindor, you don't deserve to be a member of our house," Prewett answered coldly, causing Hermione to push her wand even deeper into the soft flesh under his jaw.

"You know nothing about me Prewett, promise me to talk to Minny tomorrow, and we can forget this ever happened." She spoke, her wavering voice betraying her calm façade. _Just agree already, damn it_.

"Did you know that she's still innocent? I'll make sure she isn't by tomorr-" Hermione drew her hand back in a flash, her hair sparkling dangerously,

"Cruc-"

"Experlliarmus!" Before she could finish, her wand was ripped from her hand, and Hermione was pulled away from her trembling housemate.

"You- You tried to curse me with the.." The ropes around his body vanished, allowing the boy to finally breathe properly again. Hermione struggled against the bruising hold she'd suddenly found herself in, but it was to no avail. She craned her neck to see whose arms she was in and spotted the familiar pale hair of the Malfoy heir.

"Let go of me right now, Abraxas." She hissed, but the boy didn't budge. She finally became aware of the other people in the corridor, first noticing Avery and Dolohov before freezing under Riddle's furious glare. _I'm so dead_.

"We will talk about this later when Mr Prewett has been taken to the hospital wing." He spoke calmly, and it was then that Hermione remembered that tonight had been a Club meeting. She wondered if Riddle would just kill her after this or if he'd first torture her until she wouldn't even remember her name. Watching silently as Riddle discreetly signed Abraxas to help him pull the soaked boy up, she tried to calm herself.

Hermione felt Abraxas' grip on her loosen before he hurried after Tom, flashing her a worried glance before vanishing around another corner.

"You're so screwed Lestrange." Avery sang gleefully behind her, and she whirled around to give the boy a piece of her mind when she suddenly found Dolohov standing right behind her, her wand in his hand.

"Clean this mess up and go back to your common room before Tom gets back here, I'll try to calm him down as much as I can." He spoke with a surprisingly soft voice, his blue eyes boring into her own with an unsettling intensity. She quietly inclined her head and took her wand from his outstretched hand.

Turning around she made sure to leave no trace of the fiasco that had happened just a few minutes ago, attempting to ignore the two boys watching her every move. The entire situation felt awkward and more than a little surreal, and she could feel the tension rolling off the boys bodies. Everybody knew what awaited her once Tom got his hands on her and she suddenly wished that Evan was by her side. She could count on him to help her, she wasn't so sure about the others, especially not about Dolohov or Avery for that matter.

"Make sure to avoid Tom for the next few days, he'll calm down eventually, and you can explain yourself then," Dolohov spoke up behind her and Hermione jumped at the sudden interruption of her thoughts.

"Thanks for your help Antonin, I know what I did was stupid, but he was messing with my friend." Avery made a disgruntled noise at her comment.

"You're such a Gryffindor Lestrange, couldn't you've just left the issue alone? Your friend isn't a child anymore."

"Shut up, Avery, I'm really not in the mood for another fight right now." Before the boy could answer, she turned on heels and strode back to her common room. Her hands were shaking as she pushed the door to her dorm open and she knew that whatever would happen tomorrow, it wouldn't be good. Her eyes wandered over to Minerva's bed, the other girl was already fast asleep, and Hermione felt dread pooling in her stomach as she thought of the potential consequences of her little outburst. _I'm so sorry Minny_...

* * *

 **December 1941**

She'd managed to avoid Tom until their next club meeting, a rather impressive feat in itself as Hermione liked to think. Silently sitting between Evan and Abraxas, she listened to the other boy's scolding words, grateful that at least he hadn't hexed her yet.

"Attempting to use an unforgivable on another student at the risk of anyone walking in on you, what were you thinking Lestrange?" He questioned her, the corners of his mouth turning downwards as he regarded her with a furious glare. Hermione shifted in her chair,

"I'm sorry Tom, it won't happen again." She began, but Riddle interrupted her.

"I felt your magic, you would've reduced the boy to a mindless, blabbering fool if I hadn't stepped in." _Are you barking mad, Hermione_? The unspoken question hung in the room like a Damocles sword above her head. She'd felt it for a while now, no sane person could've endured what she'd went through without losing some part of themselves. Rabastan had coped by burying his old life under a heavy layer of lies and deceit, playing the role of the charismatic wizard from abroad to near perfection.

Rodolphus had undertaken the seemingly impossible task to change the future while drowning his worries in whiskey and letting his anger out on Hermione and the house elves. And herself? She was constantly torn between the guilt of leaving her old life behind and trying to fit in with the people around her. She had befriended people who'd been raised in a world that Hermione had fought so hard to change and helped the man who would one day cause so much grief to them. It was sickening.

"I acted irrational, from now on you can expect better from me." The other members watched the two of them with indifferent expressions, careful not to make a sound. No one wanted to face Tom Riddle's wrath after what had happened to Avery. Word quickly got around, and most of them seemed to have realised that their group leader wasn't someone to be messed with.

"This wasn't the first time you've used this spell, why did you learn it?" She noticed that he hadn't asked her where she'd learned about the Unforgivables, probably assuming she'd been taught by her father. Somewhat thrown off by his direct question in front of the whole group, she tried to sort her thoughts before answering the boy.

"It might've escaped your notice Riddle, but Grindelwald is an active threat on the continent, and the French Ministry is almost entirely run by his supporters at this point." Racking her memories about the political situation in France during Grindelwald's heydays, Hermione continued.

"Living under the reign of a man whose primary political agenda is to usurp governments isn't the most peaceful experience, so forgive me if I sometimes overreact." Considering the pitiful glances she received from some of the other occupants of the room, Hermione figured that her explanation had been believable. Riddle regarded her with a calculating gaze, clearly contemplating how to use her past experiences to his advantage.

"So your family was actively involved in the Résistance?" The room seemed to grow colder at his words and even Hermione knew how dangerous it was to openly speak up against Grindelwald's regime, his spy's seemingly lurking around every corner, waiting for people to slip up. "Or is your family, in fact, spying for him?" Hermione sucked in a breath at his accusation.

"It'd be a brilliant move, he'd have an insight into our government with your family's seats in the Wizengamot and even some eyes and ears in the country's most prestigious school." The conversation had taken a dangerous turn, and Hermione was aware of the underlying threat in his words.

With the help of his wealthy friends, it wouldn't be too difficult to raise suspicion about their sudden arrival a few years ago, and Hermione didn't think that the Lestrange brothers had covered their tracks well enough to convince the Aurors. Regardless of their non-existent connection to the dark wizard, Riddle had said the one thing that could pose a serious threat to their existence in this timeline and her sudden fear must've shown because suddenly, Evan grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around to face him, his eyes clouded with anger.

"Hermione, please tell me that this isn't true." Struggling to find an answer to his desperate question, Hermione pulled away from him and turned towards Riddle,

"We're not spies, nor are we part of the Résistance. We left because of personal reasons, that's it."

"If you have nothing to hide then why are you so shaken up right now?" Riddle asked casually, his dark eyes daring her to argue back. _Why is it, that he always wins in the end, no matter what I do or say_? She thought angrily to herself, unsure how to conclude the argument without digging herself an even deeper hole.

"I lost many dear friends in this pointless war, I watched our government crumble after his men took over, turning the country into a corrupt state where only the most wealthy strive, and you dare to question, why we took the opportunity to leave when it presented itself?" Making sure to pour all the hate and despair she felt towards Voldemort into her voice she watched the shame and guilt wash over the other Slytherins faces. Except for Riddle of course, who just continued to observe her through his dark lashes. At the memory of her fallen classmates, she felt her chest tighten uncomfortably, but she'd rather throw herself off the astronomy tower than cry in front of Avery.

"So you blame your sad childhood for your appalling behaviour last week? If you think this will save you from punishment, you're wrong." Riddle finally said.

"Of course," Feeling empty inside Hermione just stood up and raised her arms.

"Don't worry Hermione I will not hurt you today, I've found a much better way to ensure you will behave yourself in the future, group dismissed." Before anyone could say something, Riddle swiftly exited the room, leaving behind a very confused Hermione. As it became clear, that he wouldn't return, the others hurriedly got up and left the dimly lit room as well, eager to escape the tense atmosphere that had built up during their meeting...

* * *

"I'm so sorry Hermione, why didn't you tell me?" Evan asked her while carefully guiding the silent girl to her common room. Abraxas had excused himself after exchanging some meaningful glances with the Rosier boy, and he took it upon himself to take care of their younger friend.

"Because I'd like to leave this part of my life behind, Hogwarts is my chance to forget all of this so please lets never speak of it again." She pleaded, praying that he'd leave the issue alone. She hated lying to her friends, but for now, there really wasn't much of an alternative. Thankfully, the boy nodded, and her shoulder sagged in relief as the boy regarded her with a charming smile, that instantly melted the chilling anxiety she'd felt in her chest since the beginning of the week.

"Just remember that I'm here for you, one word and I'll give you a ring that you can shove into any of your bullies faces." He teased, causing the younger witch to roll her eye at the insufferable boy.

"Why bother with a ring if my wand works just fine?" Hermione turned to look at the taller Slytherin, feeling her cheeks grow hot under his thoughtful gaze. After turning sixteen a fortnight ago, he was suddenly nearing the age Hermione had been in her previous life, with worrisome speed.

Mentally shaking her head, she buried her growing feelings for the Rosier heir in the deepest corner of her mind. She didn't have time for silly school romances, nor engagements for that matter. _Why are the wizards in this era so eager to settle down, this can't be normal_. Recalling the impressive number of her pureblood classmates that were already engaged, she shuddered. _Definitely not happening_.

"Am I really that unappealing to you, dear?" Evan's face was suddenly inches away from her own and Hermione froze at their sudden closeness. She could count the golden specks mixed within the stunning green of his eyes. When Evan took her hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb over her skin, the world around them came to a screeching halt, and Hermione could feel the warmth radiating from his soft skin.

He inclined his face towards hers, and the moment his lips finally brushed against her mouth Hermione regained control over her traitorous limbs, hastily shoving the boy away from her.

"Don't." Hurt flashed through his eyes, and Hermione felt her heart sink, she didn't know what to think or what say to him, so before he could stop her, Hermione rushed past her friend towards the portrait of the fat lady. The woman waited until Hermione was only a few feet away before swinging open and ushering the distraught girl inside.

"Hermione, please wait!" She ignored Evan's pained voice and ran up the stairs towards her dorm, feeling deeply ashamed of her actions...

* * *

"How could you Hermione, I thought you were my friend?" Minerva's accusing voice tore Hermione from her unrestful slumber and confused she pulled herself up, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the sleep in her eyes. When she finally managed to turn towards her fuming housemate, the memories of her previous encounter with Evan came rushing back into her head, and Hermione had to take a deep breath at the memory of his warm lips on her own. _Merlin, what have I done_.

"He told me that you harassed him for weeks, telling him all sorts of lies about me." Tears were running over Minerva's blotched cheeks, but Hermione's mind was still trying to comprehend her friend's words, so instead of calming the other girl down, Hermione remained frozen on her bed.

"What are you talking about Minny?" She rasped, her voice still rough from being woken up so suddenly.

"Stop pretending and just tell me!" Putting her hands on her hips, Minerva regarded her with a glare that could've frozen hell over.

"Tell you what, for Merlin's sake?!" Hermione shot back, fed up with her friend's antagonising behaviour.

"Ignatius broke up with me because you told him, you'd send your Slytherin cronies after him if he didn't." _What_?

"I'd never do that to you Minny, you can't possibly believe that git." Hermione mentally slapped herself at her slip up at the end when she saw Minerva's face contort in anger.

"That git is- was the first boy I ever liked and you ruined it, I hate you!" Hermione could only watch speechlessly as her upset housemate stormed out of their dorm, her billowing robes brushing against her ankles as she turned around. Shutting the door with more force than necessary, the other girl left Hermione to herself.

"What the hell just happened?" She murmured, before pushing away her covers and making her way towards the bathroom. _Why would he tell her all those lies_? She would've thought that after their little encounter he'd listen to her warnings, but apparently, she'd been wrong.

At the thought of Minerva's tear-streaked face, Hermione felt her heart clench, and while she attempted to tame her curls into a semi-presentable updo, she contemplated how to deal with this problem. The Holidays were fast approaching, which left little time for her to fix things and she didn't think that merely cursing the boy again would help in this situation.

Finished with her morning routine Hermione left for their last class in this term, still deeply in thought. _If that boy dares to show his face, I'll hex his tongue off_.

"Lovely day isn't it Lestrange, you look a little distraught did something happen?" Riddle's cheerful voice pulled her from her thoughts, and the girl narrowed her eyes at his suspiciously good mood. He fell into step beside her as they made their way towards the great hall, his whole attire as impeccable as always and Hermione instantly recognised the custom-tailored Robes she'd gotten for him last Christmas. They fit perfectly.

"It was you, wasn't it?" They both knew what she was talking about, and his smug smirk was answer enough for the young Gryffindor witch. Her heartbeat quickened as it became clear that this was her punishment for breaking his rules and she couldn't help herself when she shot him a baleful glare in return. She wondered how he'd managed to convince Prewett to tell Minerva all those awful things, but before she could ask him, they'd arrived at the great hall and went their separate ways towards their house tables.

Charlus was already sitting with Minerva, silently shaking his head as she made her way towards them. She felt her heart sink but decided that she didn't want to cause another scene in front of their housemates. It still didn't hurt any less, to know that Charlus was obviously taking Minerva's side, even though she hadn't even had the chance to explain herself. _Happy fucking Christmas Hermione_...

* * *

The day after their fight, Minerva and most of the other students had left for home, to spend Christmas or Yule in some of her other friends cases at home, leaving only Hermione and a handful of other students behind. She'd decided not to return to Lestrange Manor, the thought of having to play house with Loreen and the baby- Edwin, she reminded herself, making her queasy. So, she'd written a short notice, telling everyone that she'd to finish an important potions assignment and spend most of her time in the library, reading.

On the last day of the year, Hermione had finally managed to pull herself together enough to seek out Riddle, who'd also stayed at Hogwarts, to wish him a happy birthday. She'd found him in the courtyard of the castle, sitting on one the benches, the snow around him seemingly untouched.

"Impressive spellwork, I don't recognise it, where did you find it?" She asked while sitting down next to him, careful not to get too close to the Slytherin. He turned his head at her sudden question, seemingly caught off guard by her casual behaviour towards him. She was still furious at him for pitting her best friend against her, but that didn't mean she couldn't play nice.

"One of Blishwick's early works, the book is awfully dry, but the spells are quite useful." He drawled, and Hermione made a mental note to look it up later. Riddle turned his attention back to a very familiar looking leather bound journal on his knees, causing Hermione in turn to draw a hitched breath. Noticing her unusual reaction, Riddle raised one of his dark brows at her.

"I just remembered that I forgot your present in my room." Awkwardly rubbing her neck, Hermione gave the boy an apologetic smile.

"Bribes won't work on me, Lestrange." Right as he had spoken those words, the last rays of sunshine had vanished behind the tall walls of the castle, causing the courtyard to darken rapidly. Just as she opened her mouth to suggest they continued their conversation inside, hundreds of little sparkling lights appeared on the large tree in the middle of the court, and awestruck Hermione stood up to gaze at the magical sight. In her time the tree had been replaced by a small bird bath, so it was the first time she'd ever seen anything like this on the Hogwarts Grounds.

"It's beautiful." She spoke as she watched the hovering lights, nearly forgetting about the other boy.

"It's said, that Rowena Ravenclaw planted it for her daughter after her death. She enchanted it to light up during a new moon to guide her daughter through the dark." During all her time at Hogwarts in this era, she'd never been in the small courtyard after dark, only occasionally walking past it on her way to some of her classes. She wondered why she'd never even heard about it, but then, she didn't have that many people to talk about romantic rendezvous places, to begin with.

"This isn't mentioned anywhere in Hogwarts, A history." She said, surprised to see Riddle shaking his head.

"I don't know which edition you're reading, but it's listed in mine." He replied and Hermione again, wondered, what would happen to it in the future because she hadn't read anything about the enchanted tree in her book from the early eighties. After admiring the tree for a few more seconds, she sat back on the bench with a heavy sigh.

"I guess I missed that part then, it's been a while since I read it anyways." The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and Hermione was suddenly reminded of her time back at the orphanage where they'd sat together for hours, quietly enjoying their books. It felt surreal. _Where did he even learn to read, most of the other kids couldn't even spell their names properly_.

"I'm surprised they let you stay at Hogwarts." Riddle cast her an annoyed glance but to her surprise still answered her indirect question.

"With the muggle war escalating, they made an exception for students who live in the non-magical parts of London." Hermione's eyes widened at his statement, and she couldn't believe that she'd more or less forgotten about that. _How can I forget the second world war for Merlin's sake? The wizarding community really is cut off from the rest of the world_.

"How surprisingly considerate of the Headmaster."

"Dumbledore was against it, but Dippet convinced him in the end." He spoke bitterly, and at the mention of her future Headmaster's name, Hermione suddenly felt guilt wash over her. She hadn't talked much with the older professor, only ever seeing him in class or at dinner. In the beginning, it had felt strange to act so distantly towards the man, but after a while, Hermione had realised that this Dumbledore wasn't the one that had helped them countless times in their quest to defeat Voldemort. He was much younger, his hair still Auburn and his clothes considerably less offending to the eye. There was no reason for her to approach him outside of class and so she had stopped worrying herself over the issue.

"Well, good for you. I guess Hogwarts is a much better alternative to Wool's Orphanage." Bringing up their shared memories from the dreadful place always seemed to put him in a pleasant mood with her and Hermione guessed it was because he felt like she could to some extent understand his motivations better than the others in their group. It was something she'd shamelessly taken advantage of multiple times in the past and probably would in the future to make to the boy listen to her opinion.

"Of course it is." Riddle tended to act differently when they were alone, less intense- or maybe he was just unusually high spirited on some days. She'd forgotten that he could be quite tolerable when he wasn't cursing or threatening people. He'd been such an insufferable prat for the past months, that it felt downright strange to have a normal conversation with the boy.

"I just came here to wish you a Happy Birthday Riddle, in two years you'll finally be able to move away from that place," Hermione spoke softly, watching as the boy gave her an unreadable look.

"Thank you." His usually pale skin glowed in the warm lights of the tree, and when his grey eyes found hers, Hermione realised that the boy from her memories, had been replaced by a young man that would soon commit his first murder and suddenly she felt terrified. At fifteen Tom Riddle wasn't just a troubled boy anymore, she couldn't tell how much her presence in his life had changed the path he was walking on, but as far as she was aware, he was still unable to feel compassion for anyone and hellbent on making the wizarding world his own. This time around, in a more conventional way but still. She didn't doubt that he would eliminate any threat on his mission for absolute power.

"Hermione?" It was jarring to hear her name from his lips. His voice no longer that of a boy, but a young man. Like Evan's it had begun to change over the past months, turning smoother and seemingly deeper whenever she had spoken to them after a few days of not seeing each other. _Why the hell is he acting so familiar with me right now_?

"Yes, Tom?" She eventually answered, satisfied to see his lips curl for a split second at her use of his own name.

"I appreciate you, but don't challenge me in front of the others from now on, understood?" Hermione had stopped listening after his first few words, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his compliment. _Merlin, what's wrong with me at the moment_?

"It was never my intention to do so Riddle." More for her own sake than anything else, she decided that she would stick with his last name for now.

"No more incidents from now on, all of you have the honour of witnessing history in the making and once we take over the ministry nothing will stop us." Hermione could see the madness lurking behind his excited smile, and she knew that the next two years would determine what kind of wizard he would become one day.

For a moment she thought about killing the boy, but his magical prowess was already far superior to her own and the possibility that she would fail grew with every passing year. In that case, he'd probably snap completely, reverting back to his snake-like future self, and that was a risk she just wasn't willing to take anymore. She'd come too far to fail now. So she decided to swallow her pride and agree to his request.

It would've been a lot easier for her to defy Riddle hadn't he been so wickedly intelligent. Hermione, despite her best efforts, was still naturally drawn to people with great minds and regardless of all his shortcomings, Riddle was still one of the brightest wizards she'd ever met. His understanding of magical theory was breath-taking for an academic mind like her own, and no matter how twisted, his words still instilled some kind of respect for his achievements, in her.

"I promise Riddle." She finally said, earning herself a curt nod from the boy.

"I knew that I can count on you Hermione, you're a good friend." His honeyed words embraced her body like a warm summer's breeze and Hermione felt her internal resolve weaken. It was so quiet, she could hear every breath he took, and she suddenly realised how close he had gotten. It would've been so easy to just surrender and give up on her friends in the future at that moment. She would be over sixty years old when Harry and Ron would enter Hogwarts, they probably wouldn't even know her. She didn't even know what would happen once her parents had her, maybe she wouldn't even be born in the future.

Would anything she did even affect the future she'd come from or was this just one of the millions and billions of parallel timelines, just as real as her previous one. Time Travel was a tricky thing, and she was under no illusion that everything that had happened to her was highly improbable. Magic was inherently illogical, following its own laws and physics that she couldn't even begin to understand. What had come to Tom Riddle as naturally as breathing had taken her years of hard work and determination. Watching him cast wandless magic like it was the most natural thing in the world, made her ill with envy.

On the other hand, his potential for greatness was the perfect lure for a person like herself. She strived in the presence of people like Riddle, the constant challenge pushing her to go beyond her limits and achieve far greater things than she could've ever imagined.

"We should go inside, my spell wasn't created for such low temperatures." At his words, Hermione forced her mind back to the present and only now did she notice, that he had extended his spell to cover herself as well. Once he dropped it, she suddenly felt the chilling cold creep up her thinly clad legs and shuddered. _How could I've missed him casting that spell_?

"You're right, if you'd like to accompany me to my common room, I can give you your present." Riddles eyes found her own as he nodded silently, and suddenly feeling uncomfortable about the whole situation she hurriedly turned around and walked towards the Gryffindor Tower. _He just turned my best friend against me, he's not a good person._

* * *

After she had given him the small box she had gotten from Rodolphus for Riddle's birthday, the boy had excused himself, and Hermione found herself alone in the deserted common room. Sitting down on one of the comfy leather chairs in front of the crackling fire she let her mind wander over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. With Charlus and Minerva treating her like air, Hermione realised that she really didn't have that many friends. Sure, there was Evan, but after their kiss, she didn't know how to act around the older boy. Which left only Abraxas, and even though he wasn't bad company per se, he still wasn't Minerva. Absentmindedly letting her hands wander over the maroon jumper Mrs McGonagall had knitted as a Christmas present for her, Hermione felt tears forming behind her eyes. She suddenly felt incredibly alone, and her heart ached for the motherly embrace of the kind woman. _What am I supposed to do now_?...

* * *

 **Thanks for your patience everyone! With Hermione approaching her fifteenth birthday I think it's finally time to introduce some romance to this story :D Thanks for all the lovely reviews and the next chapter should be up in a couple of days xoxo.**


	10. 4th Year - Part II

**February 1942**

Four weeks. That's how long it had taken Hermione to come to terms with Minerva giving her the cold shoulder. After two she'd stopped crying herself to sleep over the hollow feeling in her chest, and after three she'd given up on her attempts to appease the other girl. She knew that Minerva was still a regular, hormonal teenager, who tended to act irrationally from time to time, so Hermione wasn't ready to give up on her first friend just yet.

She didn't think it was right how her housemate was treating her, but she could still understand where Minerva was coming from, a broken heart wasn't something that could be fixed in a couple of days.

"Anybody home?" Hermione snapped out of her musings and turned her attention back to the other boy. Standing across from Evan, with her wand raised, she was ready to deflect any hexes he might send her way.

"Come on, dear, I won't bite." At his teasing words, Hermione hurled another stinging hex in his direction, watching sourly as it dissolved upon hitting his hastily conjured shield. She had come to enjoy their weekly duelling sessions quite a lot, with the other boy's becoming increasingly well versed in their spellwork. Without the constant threat of war looming over her head, it was actually quite fun to test her skills against her peers.

"Relashio!" Hermione silently waved her wand in a circular motion, effectively blocking Evan's attempt to disarm her. As she watched her opponent scowl at her casual display of nonverbal magic, Hermione felt a smile tucking at the corners of her lips. In the past two months, the young witch had slowly but surely gained the other group members respect. In the beginning, she'd to hold back a lot, following Riddle's order to keep his precious housemates happy. Now though, she actually had to concentrate to hold up against most of them, Avery and Evan in particular. The first time her friend had managed to catch Hermione off guard, she hadn't been able to look him in the eyes for days. The fact that the others were getting closer to her own level was unnerving, to say the least.

The two of them continued throwing spells at each other until Hermione eventually managed to gain the upper hand, easily catching Evan's wand after disarming him with a simple Expelliarmus. He gave her a proud smile before taking his wand back, and again, Hermione was acutely aware of his warm hand brushing over her own.

"You did great dear." His voice was perhaps the single most dangerous thing Hermione had encountered in this time. She felt goosebumps forming on her arms as she listened to his praise. After their kiss a couple of weeks ago, it had taken Hermione the entire Christmas break to process the whole thing, but thankfully Evan was the textbook definition of a charmer and had gracefully dispelled any lingering feelings of awkwardness with that damned smile of his.

 _For now_. Hermione thought while stepping away from the troublesome boy. "I can only say the same for you Evan."

* * *

The two of them made room for the next pair and joined Abraxas and Antonin at the backside of the classroom. Hermione made herself comfortable next to the only Ravenclaw in the group, returning his curt nod after slipping her wand back into her sleeve.

"Did you finish Slughorn's assignment for tomorrow?" Antonin asked, his eyes never leaving the two Slytherins duelling each other.

"No, I need to rewrite my conclusion, I'm not happy with it." Even though she'd already done most of their current coursework in the future, there was a surprising amount of new, or rather old, additions to the curriculum, that hadn't been taught in her previous classes. Their current potions assignment being one of those additions. It seemed like the standards in this era were much higher than in her old time, and Hermione didn't wonder for the first time why so many modules had been taken off the syllabus. It irked her studious mind that she'd missed out on so many topics during her first time at Hogwarts.

"We can look over our texts after this if you want." Antonin offered, and Hermione eagerly agreed. If someone had told her a few years ago, that she'd one day get along with the scary man that still sometimes haunted her dreams she would've laughed at them. But as she watched the dark-haired boy from the corner of her eyes, she didn't see anything but a young man with a passion for obscure spells and a knack for Herbology of all things and as much as she tried, she just couldn't bring herself to hate the other boy...

* * *

"Hermione, before I forget this is for you." Evan interrupted, shoving a small box into her face and causing Hermione to raise an eyebrow at the smiling boy.

"If this is a ring I'll punch you, Rosier." She threatened, but her friend just laughed.

"Don't worry I'm not that desperate." Deciding to believe him for now, Hermione opened the wooden container and peeked inside. Feeling her breath hitch at the sight, she looked back at Evan with narrowed eyes.

"It's for your wand! Just a small accessory that I found at Hogsmeade last week." Hermione pulled the silver item from the velvet cushion it was placed on. It was beautiful, she couldn't deny that. She had seen similar jewellery on other witches wands in the past but had never had one herself. Holding the delicately carved spiral near her wand, she watched in fascination as it suddenly sprung to life and curled itself around the bottom. Intrigued she examined Evan's present closer before remembering that she wasn't alone.

"It's beautiful, thank you, Evan." Shifting her attention back to the beaming boy, she gave him a grateful smile which he returned tenfold, his cheeky dimples seemingly mocking Hermione. _I need to get over this crush. I can't live like this any longer_.

"A little kiss would be a sufficient reward." He teased, causing Hermione in turn to kick his shin. "Ow, come on dear, we talked about those violent tendencies of yours."

"Shut up Evan!"...

* * *

 **April 1942**

"I think we should talk Mione." Minerva's quiet voice drifted through the dark room. Their other roommates were already fast asleep, and one glance at the watch on her bedside table told Hermione that it was way too late for that particular conversation.

"Really, Minny now you think is a good time to talk?" The silvery moonlight that shone through the windows of the tower did little to illuminate the room. Before Hermione could protest, she felt her friend sit down at the end of her bed, closing the curtains behind her. With her wand already drawn, the girl murmured a small muffling spell before turning around to face Hermione.

"Lumos." Hermione felt her eyes sting at the sudden flash of bright light and hissed at Minerva's thoughtless action.

"Merlin, I really think this can wait until tomorrow Minny." She tried to convince her friend, fully aware that she was wasting her breath.

"I think we can both agree that what you did wasn't right but-" Minerva began, but Hermione raised her hand.

"I already told you that I didn't tell that git, I'd sent Abraxas and Evan after him." A tense silence filled the small space they were sitting in.

"It was obvious that you didn't like him very much." Minerva eventually spat back, causing Hermione in turn to curl her lips at her friend's angry voice.

"He isn't a great person Minny, and if you'd let me speak for one second, I'd explain why." Minerva curled her hands around her wand, but Hermione didn't let the girl's sour expression get to her.

"He cheated on you with Merlin knows how many girls and all I did was teach him a lesson." Tears were welling up in her friend's eyes, but Hermione wasn't done just yet.

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself and that hurt. A lot." She might as well have punched the other girl right in the gut judging from her pained expression, but after a month of receiving the cold shoulder from Minerva, she didn't feel too bad about her words.

When Minerva finally looked at her again, Hermione knew that the girl didn't believe her. She felt her heart sink at the dark look that crossed her friends face.

"Why? Why don't you want to see me happy?" Asked Minerva with trembling lips and Hermione flinched at her friend's broken voice. She was at a loss for words, unsure how to handle the situation. It was late, she was tired, and Minerva was clearly very emotionally distraught right now. Her odds of turning this conversation around were vanishingly slim. Shifting into a more comfortable position, Hermione tried to reach for her friend's hand, but Minerva hastily pulled hers to her chest.

"You're my best friend Minny, I'd never do anything to hurt you." She said earnestly.

"You know what, I think I haven't been your best friend for a while now." Hermione recoiled at her friend's spiteful words.

"You never tell me anything. Charlus and I haven't been invited to your house once and don't tell me you were busy. I know that your Slytherin friends visited multiple times." Minerva continued, raising her hand, every time Hermione tried to interrupt her speech.

"I think you're a big fat liar Hermione. You pretend to be so different from those bigoted purebloods you surround yourself with, but deep down you're just as bad as them." Nearly yelling towards the end of her sentence, Minerva regarded her with an accusing glare. Hermione's hands were trembling under the heavy layers of her covers, and she felt the familiar sense of dread that came before the panic, settling deep within her chest. The usually comfortable space within her curtains suddenly felt suffocating, and Hermione struggled to form a proper sentence in her mind.

"I-I'd never support any of their views Minny, you know that."

"If you really believe that Hermione than you're either blind or stupid." Minerva's bitter voice cut through Hermione like a knife. "You sit in your ivory tower, the world handed to you on a silver platter, and you don't even realise how hypocritical you sound every time you open your mouth."

"Minny I-"

"No, Mione you don't get it. Since the first time I've met you, I knew that you came from a completely different world." _If you only knew_. Hermione thought bitterly as she listened to her distraught friend. Minerva's eyes wandered over her silken nightgown and back to the Lestrange crest embroidered on its chest, the intertwined letters standing in stark contrast to the white fabric.

"When I first told my mum about you she told me to stay away from the likes of you, I didn't understand back then but now... You live in this world where even as a witch you can seemingly achieve anything." Hermione once again tried to speak up, but Minerva just talked over her trembling voice.

"You want to stand up to your family, so you befriend some poor Halfblood, you want to be just as powerful as the boys, so you throw convention in the wind and surround yourself with wizards. And instead of facing any kind of retribution you get rewarded for everything." Hermione was painfully aware of the fact that Minerva didn't know about half of the sacrifices she'd made to get where she was now, but it still hurt to hear her friend talking to her like that...

* * *

The young witch wanted to grab her friend by the shoulders and shake her until she understood how awful she felt, how difficult it was to endure this madness that was her life now. But she knew she couldn't. She shouldn't. Minerva was too good, too innocent to know about the price most children from old families had to pay in exchange for their comfortable lives. The abuse, those cold, empty manors, looming proudly on the edges of most English villages they had to return to every summer. There were exceptions like Charlus, but Hermione had seen the bruises on Evan's arms after the Christmas break. She'd witnessed Abraxas losing his teasing attitude every time he returned to Hogwarts, and she didn't even want to think about Dolohov's or Avery's families after hearing the two talking about their father's preferred methods of punishment when they were younger once.

"I worked hard to get where I am now Minny, I'm not some secret pureblood fanatic nor am I using you to act up against my father." Hermione finally managed to say, while attempting to calm her twitching hands. She still felt like she couldn't breathe properly and wanted nothing more than to end this conversation.

Scowling at her friend, Minerva shook her head, apparently not convinced by Hermione's words.

"All I ever wanted from you was honesty, Mione. You live those two separate lives, raving about equal rights in our common room, only to run off a second later with your Slytherins to Merlin knows where. I just don't buy it anymore, Ignatius was the last straw." Sitting up from the bed, Minerva pushed the curtains open.

"I really hoped you'd apologise today Mione, but all you did was continue lying. We're done." And with that, Minerva waved her wand, and the room turned dark again. Without saying anything else, the other Gryffindor walked back to her bed and shut her curtains with more force than necessary, leaving Hermione struggling to comprehend her last words. _We're done_. Hermione shook her head. _We're done_.

"No." She whispered, feeling her mind going into overdrive. Shoving away her covers, Hermione stumbled out of her bed and ran towards the bathroom. Everything felt wrong. Pressing her fists over her closed eyes, she sunk to the floor and tried to control her breathing. _We're done_. The words kept replaying in her mind, and Hermione's heart was pounding against her chest. She needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere away from the girl in the room next door. _We're done_. Pulling herself up from the cold tiles, Hermione returned to the dorm room, grabbing her wand and robe before silently slipping out of the door. Chewing her lips in an attempt to keep her tears at bay, she passed through the deserted common room, ignoring the fat lady's protest at her late excursion...

* * *

Turning around another corner, she found herself standing in front of the same girl's bathroom she'd caught Prewett and the Ravenclaw girl all those weeks ago. Swallowing down another sob, she pushed the doors open and pointed her wand at the first stall door.

"Expulso!" It burst into a thousand splinters, littering the floor and wall behind it. Hermione felt the rage coursing through her veins like liquid fire, and she wondered for a moment if this was how Rodolphus always felt like.

She reached another door. It met the same fate as the previous one. Hermione let out an angry hiss, not even aware of the splintered wood digging into her bare feet as she walked towards her next target. She was so damn tired of crying. Minerva didn't know anything, and it made Hermione furious that the other girl just assumed the worst of her. Didn't their friendship mean anything to her? Coming to a halt in front of another stall Hermione suddenly noticed a shadow in the flickering lights by the sinks. _What the_ \- Turning around fully, Hermione walked towards the huddled thing on the floor. An awful suspicion settling in the pit of her stomach as she got closer, and she gripped her wand a little tighter.

"Merlin, please no." Licking her dry lips, Hermione bowed down and nudged the thing with her wand. It didn't move. She'd seen enough of her slaughtered classmates to recognise what she was looking at. She felt bile rising up in her throat, but forced herself to grab the huddled figure and turn it around.

"Damn it!" Hermione stared at the familiar bespectacled profile of Myrtle Warren. Her eyes were wide open, her face forever frozen in a terrified grimace. She wanted to scream, cry, do anything other than keep staring at the girl's pale face, but she was paralysed, her mind had come to a standstill, forcing her to burn the image of the young Ravenclaw forever into the back of her mind...

* * *

A loud bang finally tore Hermione away from her stupor and before she could move, warm arms pulled her away from the dead, _dead_ child.

"Love, can you hear me? Merlin, is that Warren?" She wasn't in the bathroom anymore, she felt his hands on her cold cheeks, the sudden touch making her flinch.

"What were you doing here in the middle of the night? You're freezing." Finally recognising Evan's voice through the haze of her whirling thoughts, Hermione looked at his worry-stricken face, still unable to forget the lifeless body a few feet away. _I'm not safe here. I need to get away before Voldemort finds me_.

"Let go of me Evan, I need to leave." She spoke with a trembling voice, trying to push the frantic boy away from her.

"What are you talking about Hermione, we need to get you to the infirmary." Struggling against his hold, Hermione already went over all the possible hideouts she could reach before sunrise. _I need my bag, where did I put my bag_?

"Hermione? No, whatever is going on you'll stay with me."...

* * *

Evan didn't know what was happening. The charm he'd placed on Hermione's present had woken him just a few minutes after midnight, alarming him to her emotional distress. He'd gotten up immediately, following the pull of the enchanted item towards the girl's bathroom on the third floor only to find Hermione huddled over the dead body of the younger Ravenclaw.

Trying to collect himself he held onto his struggling friend. She was confused that much was clear and it scared him to see the usually strong witch so distraught.

"They mustn't find me." She whispered feverishly while clawing at his trembling arms, her wand seemingly forgotten in her right hand. Evan let out a frustrated sigh and called for one of the castle's house-elves.

"Alarm the headmaster and Medi-Witch, there's a dead student in the bathrooms on the third floor." He said, his voice sounding much stronger than he actually felt. At the sight of the student's still body, the elf let out a terrified yelp before vanishing again, leaving Evan to deal with Hermione alone.

"Hermione, love you need to calm down. The Headmaster is on his way." He turned the shaking girl towards him and pressed her firmly against his chest, effectively blocking her eyes from the outside world. He felt her small hands pulling at his shirt, but he was determined to shield her from this horrible sight until help arrived. His mind wandered back to the dead girl behind them, and he wondered what had happened to her. Why had Hermione been with her?

"Evan please don't let them find me again." Hermione's terrified voice brought him back to the present and forcefully shutting his eyes, he waited until little lights started to dance in front of the blackness.

"Who Hermione? Who mustn't find you?" He asked hoarsely, having an inkling who she was referring to. He hadn't bought her explanation about her family's arrival on the isles for one second. No duelling lesson taught anyone to fight the way she did, even though she seemed to think her cover was watertight.

"You-Know-Who's men, they'll kill me." He didn't need to ask who You-Know-Who was. There were only so many evil wizards rampaging the continent at the moment. Feeling his heart go out for the young witch in his arms, he couldn't even imagine what horrors she'd faced back home, her severe reaction to Warren's body, telling him more than enough...

* * *

"Merlin, what happened here, Mr Rosier?" The shocked voice of Headmaster Dippet caused the girl in his arms to freeze, and he knew that he needed to get Hermione away from this place.

"We were just..." He tried to come up with a believable excuse for their current predicament. Hermione was still only clad in her flimsy nightgown, her robes barely covering anything just as he was only wearing his sleeping attire himself. The entire thing was highly inappropriate.

"Hermione and I are to be engaged soon Headmaster Dippet." If Hermione had been in her right mind, she would've slapped him for those words, but it was the first reasonable explanation for their presence in the corridors he could come up with, seeing as he didn't want Hermione involved in this mess at all cost.

Better to let the Headmaster think they were just stealing away for some quiet time than having no explanation at all. Dippet's disapproving but thankfully not suspicious glare was enough to calm the boy, and he put on his most convincing caught-in-the-act face.

"Twenty Points from Slytherin and Gryffindor each, for wandering around past curfew and indecent behaviour. I've expected better from you Mr Rosier." Evan felt the weight on his chest lifting at the Headmaster's apparent dismissal.

"I've alarmed the Aurors, my- the poor girl is shaking, we should take her to the Hospital Wing." Professor Dumbledore came to a halt next to the Headmaster, and Evan gladly followed the teacher's advice. Giving the two men a final nod, he gently steered Hermione away from the scene and towards the frantic Medi-witch who took one look at the two before signing them to follow her.

"Merlin, help us, this is truly a scary night. Follow me, Mr Rosier." Just as he was about to go after the witch, Hermione suddenly began struggling in his hold, and it took him all his remaining strength to hold the thrashing girl down.

"Hermione, you need to calm down." Tears were streaming down the younger girl's face, and Evan felt his heart clench.

"Let go of me. Ridd-" Before she could finish that sentence he put his hand over her mouth. He suddenly knew exactly who to blame for the Ravenclaw's death. If Hermione even so much as mentioned his name, he'd kill them both.

"Shh, please Hermione. You need to calm down." When the girl continued struggling he turned towards the Medi-Witch with pleading eyes and taking pity on the two she waved her wand and Hermione became still in his arms.

"She's had a very traumatising experience Mr Rosier, but don't worry we'll fix her right up. Would you mind carrying Miss Lestrange or shall I levitate her?" Immediately picking up the unconscious girl, Evan looked down at her tear-streaked cheeks with sad eyes. He prayed that one day, she'd finally accept him and let him protect her...

* * *

Hermione woke up to the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing. She didn't feel rested at all, and her hands and legs felt stiff under the thin bed sheets. _Merlin, I screwed up_. The past events came rushing back into her memory and gripping her head, she tried to keep calm. Myrtle was dead, and it was her fault. She should've remembered that Tom found the chamber this year. Harry had told her the story so many times. _I should've remembered_! She didn't think that he had wanted to kill the girl. The basilisk was not something that could be entirely controlled, and Tom didn't know what would be waiting for him down in the chambers. Still, a girl was dead, and she could've prevented it had she not been that busy living her teenage life. She felt ashamed of herself.

"Ah, Miss Lestrange you are awake. How are you feeling, you gave Mr Rosier quite the scare last night, here drink this." Hermione let the Medi-Witch spoon-feed her what she suspected to be a calming draught before leaning her head back onto her pillow.

"What happened while I was asleep?" She asked, feeling the potion relaxing her tense muscles.

"They found the culprit in the early morning hours, it was to be expected that that half breed would only bring misfortune to this school." Hermione knew she was talking about Hagrid. Sweet Hagrid who had just been accepted into Hogwarts last year. She hadn't spoken to him, her friends and school keeping her busy and now she had let history repeat itself, robbing the boy of a bright future. She truly hated who she had become at that moment, the old Hermione would've never allowed for that to happen.

"I see." She eventually answered, feeling drowsy from the potent calming draught she'd been given.

"Rest now Miss Lestrange, you're safe here." And with that Hermione closed her eyes again. Relieved to escape the grim reality of her life for a few more hours...

* * *

 **September 1942**

Hermione stared at the little boy that was currently sitting on her lap, giggling at something only he was seeing. She couldn't believe that the small auburn-haired child in front of her was really her cousin. _He is so big_. It had been nearly a year since her last stay at Lestrange Manor and even though it hadn't felt that long, looking at the babbling toddler now, it seemed to have been an eternity.

"Isn't he just precious? Just yesterday he said your father's name for the first time." Loreen smiled warmly at the unfamiliar sight of her niece and son enjoying each other's company. Hermione raised her brows at that statement, a little thrown off by the fact that the infant she remembered was already capable of forming his first words. Had she really been gone that long?

"He grew a lot since I last saw him." She eventually said, watching as the little boy made an attempt to pull on one of her locks. Leaning a little further away from the mischievous toddler, Hermione tried to overcome the lingering dread that was pooling in her stomach, every time she remembered that this boy was her actual blood relative and that his father was a time traveller. She didn't even want to think of all the possible consequences of his birth to the timeline.

"You should really visit more often. He'll for sure adore you when he's older." Hermione didn't know how to feel about that. She'd never been in any sort of mentor role in her old life for her relatives, with her being the only child in the family. She didn't think she was ready for the responsibility.

"I'm sorry Aunt Loreen, I'll try to better myself." She spoke politely, to appease the hovering woman for now...

* * *

After her return to Lestrange manor, the first thing she'd done was to tell Rodolphus what had happened to Myrtle, expressing the immense guilt she felt. He had explained that some things were just meant to happen and after weeks of him constantly assuring her, she'd started to believe him.

Without Minny and Charlus lifting her spirits, she'd only had Evan to talk to, but after finding out about the charm he'd put on her wand, which conveniently was irreversible, she was still cross with him, despite his best intentions. _Sneaky brat_. Eying the innocent accessory at the bottom of her wand she scowled. She should've known that Slytherins never just did something nice without an ulterior motive.

"I still can't believe you don't want to celebrate your birthday this year Hermione." Loreen carefully lifted Edwin from Hermione's arms as she spoke, having noticed her growing unease with holding the toddler. Giving the woman a grateful smile, Hermione brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt before getting up as well.

"I'm really not in the mood for a celebration this year, maybe next time." She'd turned fifteen two days ago and had decided that following the events at school, a lavish party was the last thing on her mind right now. _I still can't believe it's been over five years already_. Her body was finally not that of a scrawny child anymore, and she apparently hadn't been the only one shocked at her sudden development of a cleavage. When Rabastan had seen her at the train station, he'd nearly choked on his own breath. Giggling at the memory of the flustered man, she once again patted over her new burgundy robes that her uncle had given her as a present on that same evening. They were her first real witches' robes, not the usual ones children wore. They were more form-fitting and swished beautifully when she twirled around in front of her mirror.

She felt like Narcissa Malfoy, gliding around the house and couldn't suppress the need to lift her chin a little higher than necessary every time she wore those particular robes. To put it simply, she felt like a woman again, and that feeling of getting her previous body back was the most glorious experience she'd ever had.

"Of course child, I understand. You were so brave, a true Lestrange." Hermione internally cringed at her aunt's words, unsure if she should be offended by the woman claiming to know what a real Lestrange was like or amused at the thought of her actually handling the situation like a true Lestrange by losing it completely and going completely cray cray on poor Evan until someone had literally knocked her out.

"Thank you, aunt, if you excuse me, I still have to finish some homework." Before the woman could answer Hermione, she hurriedly left the room, unwilling to put up with the woman for a minute longer. She could only take so much of Loreen at a time and now with the baby added to the mix, she felt seriously exhausted after spending time with the two.

Closing her doors behind her, Hermione threw herself face down on her soft bed and inhaled the by now familiar scent of the house deeply, instantly feeling more at ease. Her mind wandered back to her little cousin, and she wondered if he'd ever feel like actual family to her. He was her blood, unlike Loreen, but that did little to convince her brain that this was a child she should love unconditionally. Everything seemed to revolve around precious little Edwin with Rabastan, and that somehow didn't sit right with her. She was glad that Rodolphus appeared to be just as unsure how to feel about the addition to his family tree as herself.

She was connected to the two brothers through their shared pasts, and that made for a bond much stronger than anything Loreen and Edwin could ever provide in her opinion. The woman didn't even know her real husband, and this was probably what irked her the most. That condescending tone of hers when she didn't even know that her beloved husband was a criminal that had spent half of his life locked away in Azkaban...

* * *

"Daughter of mine!" Her doors swung open and ignoring her annoyed huff the older man came to a halt near her bed, crossing his arms in the process.

"Get out, we discussed this a million times, my room is out of limits." Rodolphus tutted at her dismissive tone, and she felt his warm hands on her exposed lower legs before he roughly pulled her from the bed. Twisting her ankles from his grip, she cursed at the chuckling man and kicked his hands away.

"Morgana is my witness, you're such a teenager it's hilarious." Huffing at the man, Hermione stood up, craning her neck to look into her father's sparkling eyes. Whatever he was excited about, it usually meant bad news for Hermione.

"Shocking I know, what do you want Rod-" At his stern gaze Hermione caught herself.

"Father. What can I help you with father?" He seemed to stand a little taller at the mention of his title, making Hermione even more suspicious of the man.

"I planned a little get together with our Lord's circle in celebration of your birthday tonight, wear this."

"What?" Only then did she notice the little elf at his side who handed her a flat, white box.

"It's a late present, custom-made and disgustingly expensive, so you better stop growing. I won't buy you something like this every year." Rolling her eyes at the man's words, she put the container down on her bed.

"You know that's not what I meant. Why did you invite them on such short notice? Merlin, does this mean Avery is coming as well?" The thought of the older boy's taunting smirks haunting her in her own home, almost made her hurl a curse at Rodolphus' head. _What have I ever done to deserve this?_

"We still have a mission here so stop whining, it'll be fun, I remember my teenage years to be the most enjoyable time of my life." Rolling her eyes at the man, Hermione turned to look what he had gotten her.

"Yeah, nothing more fun than hanging out with a bunch of hormonal teenage wizards, I think you sometimes tend to forget that I'm in fact a witch." Lifting the lid off the box, she pulled out a set of beautiful emerald robes. Letting her hands wander over the soft fabric she suddenly let out a surprised gasp.

"They're pants. Oh Merlin, real pants!" They were quite loose fitting, looking more like a long skirt than actual pants but still. Hermione turned around, beaming at the man patiently waiting behind her.

"Thank you so much, I never thought I'd be able to wear anything but dresses and skirts ever again." Still clutching her new robes firmly to her chest, she allowed Rodolphus to put a hand on her shoulder.

"We have to make use of our right to wear supposedly daring French couture at some point, and you won't be able to keep up with those boys in billowing skirts after all." They smiled at each other before Hermione cleared her throat, pointing at her doors.

"I'll try them on immediately, now get out. You can't keep coming into your fifteen-year-old daughter's room, it's inappropriate." Rodolphus looked like he had bitten into something sour at her words but made his way towards the door nonetheless.

"My brother and I killed you once, I think we're past the point of societal norms." He called before closing the doors with a wink of his hand, causing Hermione to scoff.

"Thanks for reminding me why I hate you!" She yelled and heard the man chuckle on his way back to his study. _Bastard_.

Turning her attention back to her new favourite thing in her wardrobe, Hermione ran behind the screen near her dressing room and quickly peeled herself out of her stiff robes. When she stepped into the soft pants, she nearly cried at the familiar feeling, slowly slipping them over her hips. Fixing them shortly above her navel she put on the complementary blouse and outer robe, closing the intricate buttons up in the front, before running towards the large mirror in her dressing room.

"Wicked." She gave into the need to do a jumping jack, enjoying the elating feeling of being able to move her legs freely. Feeling a little silly after while of crouching and kicking alone in front of her mirror Hermione composed herself and calmly sat back down on her bed.

"Winny?" At her call, her elf plopped into the room, immediately admiring Hermione's new robes.

"Missy looks so beautiful." Smiling at the gushing elf, Hermione asked her to take care of her hair for the evening. If she had to hang out with those horrid people, then she'd at least make sure that they knew they were in the presence of a witch and should behave as such. Too often had she had to deal with them getting a little too unbearable during their club meetings, after writing her off as one of them. She hated it. Just as with Harry and Ron, they seemed to forget that she was just as much of a girl as Ginny and Cho. _Well, Evan is an exception but he's insufferable in every other regard so, he's still not in my good books_...

* * *

"Morgana's tits, you clean up nice Lestrange." Was the first thing Hermione heard after Rodolphus had left the children to themselves, crowded around the blazing bonfire he'd ignited in celebration of her birthday. Glowering at Avery, she flicked her hair while turning away from the boy.

"So nice of you to say, Avery, can't say the same for you though." She cackled at his indignant spluttering, before returning her attention to Riddle who was silently watching the rowdy crowd from his seat a little away from the fire.

"Merlin, I hate that boy so much, how was your summer, Riddle." As he looked at her, Myrtle's terrified face flickered through her mind, and she hurriedly took a sip from the fire whiskey some of the boy's had _borrowed_ from their father's stashes.

"I see you're not above joining those buffoons in their drunken escapades?" He spoke calmly, regarding the glass in her hand with a judgemental glare. He clearly wasn't a fan of alcohol. _Interesting_.

"Just a little to tolerate Avery for an entire evening." _And I'm actually twenty-three and deserve this after having to stay sober for the past five years_. Hermione was not a supporter of underage drinking, but as most of the boys would turn seventeen this or next year anyway, she just couldn't be bothered to play the responsible role.

"Understandable I guess. I've been reading the books you got me, I need some more until next week." She nodded eagerly, actually interested in the topics he was reading up on. The books discussed highly advanced magical theory that even she had trouble understanding and having a second opinion would surely help her in her studies.

"Consider it done." She was about to ask him another question when she felt someone's arm slipping around her waist.

"We're playing some games, won't you two join us?" Hermione turned her head towards Evan, her stern gaze ordering him to remove his offending limb from her body instantly if he valued his flawless freckled face. Slowly removing himself from her form, the other boy regarded them with a questioning look and sighing Hermione got up as well. _Better to get wasted with them then having to deal with them later wholly sober_. She thought to herself while waiting for Riddle's answer.

"I won't join the drinking, but I'll come over with you." Evan, feeling a little bolder from the whiskey, cheered and led them towards the rest of the group. He shoved Hermione on the bench between Abraxas and himself whereas Riddle sat down next to Dolohov, who looked more than a little uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"Loser has to put on one of Lestrange's dresses!" Avery exclaimed, earning loud cheers from the entire group, whereas Hermione just pursed her lips. As if she'd let any of those idiots wear her precious new robes.

"Alright, let's play some games..."

* * *

It had gotten late, and the group had gotten increasingly rowdier. Hermione was feeling extremely light-headed, and she blamed her dulled sense of responsibility for her next action.

"Let's go to the village and scare some muggles!" One of the boys suggested and everyone except for Hermione, Tom and Dolohov loudly agreed. Before she knew what was happening, their group was already on the move, wands in their hands and ready to cause some mayhem.

"What about our trace?" She asked a little concerned.

"Don't worry if necessary, father will just erase the records." Abraxas slurred more or less coherent, which in turn just made Hermione angry.

"That's so illegal, how can he just do that." She asked incredulously, turning towards Dolohov and Riddle for support.

"Calm down Hermione, that's just how it's always been, why are you getting all...Hermione over this?" She sighed at Abraxas' hollow insult, happy to see that at least Tom seemed to agree with her on this matter.

"Tom thinks it's crap too, so get off your high horse Abraxas." At hearing his name, the pale boy regarded her with a deadpan look. He looked at her like that one time she'd thrown herself into his arms during their second year and she wondered how he'd react to her advances now that they were both older. _And prettier_. She added in her head.

"Tom?" She successfully got his attention and promptly launching herself at the boy, she let out a delighted laugh at his annoyed grunt as he caught her reflexively. Ignoring the other boy's incredulous stares, she rested her head on Tom's shoulder for a second.

"No more whiskey for Lestrange tonight." He drawled while peeling her off him before shoving her back towards Evan and Abraxas.

"Spoilsport." She pouted as she grabbed onto Evan's arm, trying to keep her steps steady on the uneven forest ground.

"I see you still have a death wish love," Evan whispered as they continued their journey towards the village and Hermione giggled.

"Don't tell him, but deep down he likes it." Her friend barked out a laugh at her teasing words, taking her hand in his and happily swinging them up and down.

"Hey, I found a house!" Avery interrupted their conversation from his spot at the front of the group. Hermione stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to see over the shoulders of the other boys, but before she could ask what Avery was doing, orange flames shot towards the night sky and shocked, Hermione watched as the two trees in the front garden of the house lit up.

"What the- Are you insane Avery? Augmenti." Hermione tried to gain control over the crackling flames, but the older boy just laughed at her before stepping out of the forest and onto the cobblestone road of the outskirts of the village.

"First one to draw a muggle out wins!" Suddenly feeling as if she was back, fighting off death eater on one their raids through muggle neighbourhoods, Hermione swallowed down her rising anxiety. Everyone except for Riddle had joined Avery, even Dolohov, who had just lit a mailbox on fire.

"Okay, that was stupid. I need to get them away from the town now." While Hermione still contemplated how to get a bunch of inebriated teenage boys away from exploding mailboxes, the door of the house to her right opened, and a middle-aged man in a pair of old-fashioned pyjamas stepped out.

"Muggle! Dolohov got the Muggle, run!" And suddenly everyone was running back towards the manor laughing loudly, and Hermione suddenly realised that those boys didn't want to torture some unsuspecting muggles, unlike their future descendants. They were just irresponsible, spoiled brats. Breathing out a tense breath she didn't know she'd been holding Hermione turned on her heels and followed them through the forest at a more leisure pace. Catching up to Riddle who wouldn't be caught running like a headless chicken if the entire Auror Department was on his heels.

"If your hands come even near my person again tonight I'll not hesitate to hex you, Lestrange." He warned her as she swayed dangerously close to the older boy. Hermione tried to pull herself together, but the forest around her was swinging up and down like she was on the world's most nauseating cruise ship and if she didn't find anything to hold on immediately, she'd empty the contents of her stomach right on Riddle's shiny shoes.

"Please Tom, I don't feel so good." Throwing her a nasty look, the Slytherin watched her pathetic attempt to stay upright before seemingly coming to a decision in his mind.

"That'll cost you one favour I promised you." Gritting her teeth at the boy's offer she wanted to do nothing more than flip him off and make her way towards the manor herself. Sadly, her body was not in agreement with her mind, and she found herself heavily leaning on the other boy before the rest of her body had even registered what had happened.

"I'll take this as a yes. Merlin, pull yourself together Lestrange." Together they made it back to the manor where the other boys were already drinking around the fire again. Hermione was not in the mood for any more fire whiskey and was just about to ask Riddle to escort her to her room when Evan crouched down in front of her. His cheeks flushed from the cold night air.

"I'll take her from here, come on Mione." When he went to grab her hand, Hermione pulled back and gripped Riddle's upper arm a little tighter.

"Thanks but I know what you're planning, I wasn't born yesterday Evan. Tom, would you mind?" Judging by his cold glare he undoubtedly would, but a deal was a deal, so he regarded the Rosier heir with a hard look on his face, prompting the boy to hastily scramble out of their way.

"Alright, alright you got me, see you tomorrow Mione!" He called after her and Hermione was still appalled by the fact, that Rodolphus had offered all of them to stay overnight. They weren't a hotel for Merlin's sake. The only positive thing about this whole event had been Loreen's sour expression at him mentioning that fact during dinner, the young mother clearly not impressed with a bunch of rowdy teenagers staying at her precious home. _Sucks to be the wife of the second brother_...

* * *

Hermione allowed Riddle to more or less carry her up the stairs towards her room. If she hadn't been so smashed, she'd have found it more than a little unnerving that he could remember where her rooms were.

"Thanks for your help Tom, I trust Evan only as far as I can throw and that's not very far." Finally arriving at the familiar double doors of her bedroom, Hermione let go of Riddle's abused arm and leaned heavily on her door. _I really need to get to bed_.

"Can you take it from here Lestrange or do I have to carry you to your bed?" He asked sarcastically, not expecting Hermione to actually fail to open her own doors.

"Winny!" She yelled, but her elf was nowhere to be seen. Irritated Hermione pulled at her doorknob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Merlin, Lestrange your inebriated brain is more useless than Avery's." Shoving the girl away he waved his hand, and her doors swung open.

"Ohh, I forgot I can just do that. Being a witch is so amazing." She said excitedly, watching Riddle enter her room first and pulling back her covers before returning to her and gently steering Hermione towards the bed.

"Arms." Doing as she was told, she raised her arms eagerly, not even flinching when Riddle waved his wand and her outer robe levitated from her body towards the low bank at the front of her bed.

"Sit." She fell down onto her heavenly soft mattress, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her shoes flew off her feet and joined her robes.

"Good, now lie down and stop being a nuisance." He pushed her shoulders into her pillows, and Hermione smiled sweetly at the expressionless boy.

"You're so pretty Riddle, it's really not fair." The boy ignored her ramblings about his perfect hair and chiselled cheekbones, instead trying to get her hands off his already crinkled robes. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Hermione pulled the boy closer, looking straight into his grey eyes.

"Why do you have to be so brilliant Riddle. Brilliant and pretty." For the first time this evening, Riddle seemed to be thrown off by her words, and she watched satisfied as his mouth turned into a thin line.

"You should sleep Lestrange before you say even more things you'll regret tomorrow." Finally, getting her hands off his robe, Riddle quickly exited the room, before Hermione could reply. Rubbing her face, Hermione took a deep breath and pulled her covers up to her chin. _Merlin, why am I like this?_

Closing her eyes, she decided to outright deny everything tomorrow. Quickly succumbing to her hazy dreams, Hermione imagined that her doors opened again and even felt someone throwing themselves across the end of her bed. Obviously, her doors wouldn't let anyone in without her explicit consent, Riddle's ability to enter her room at his leisure already forgotten, so she drifted off again...

* * *

Winny's shrill shrieks tore Hermione from her restful slumber and barely conscious, the girl sat up.

"Morgana, what time is it?" A deep voice that definitely did not belong to her still wailing house elf, nearly gave Hermione a heart attack and yelping at the unwelcome guest in her bed she kicked the other boy immediately off the side of it. Earning herself a muffled curse from the other person in return.

"Avery? What in Merlin's name are you doing in my room?" Upon seeing the disgruntled boy sitting up, still fully clothed and his dark hair standing up into every direction of the sky, Hermione sneered in disgust at the thought of sharing anything with the boy. Especially her cursed bed!

"Winny, will you shut up already?" Hermione groaned, and her elf finally stopped having a full-blown breakdown in her room.

"Winny has failed her Missy, she will never find a husband now, forever alone just like Missy's father." Feeling the urge to face-palm at her elf's sorrowful whining, Hermione rubbed her tired eyes.

"She wouldn't have found someone anyways, elf, I mean have you looked at her?" He eyed her dishevelled form, judging her tangled locks for an exceptionally long time.

"Screw you, Avery!" Throwing one of her pillows at the boy's head, she crawled over her mattress towards where the boy was sitting and pointed a finger at him.

"We will never talk about this to anyone, ever. If you even so much as think about this night I'll gut you." Raising his arms in defence, Avery pulled himself up and slunk towards her door.

"Your chastity is safe with me Lestrange, I'd rather be boiled alive then tell anyone I spend the night with your barmy arse." Throwing another pillow after the boy, she watched it harmlessly bouncing off the doorframe, inwardly cursing the older Slytherin.

"I'll never drink again."...

* * *

 **Tnx for your patience and all the reviews. Before you come after me about bad, lousy alcohol! This story is rated M! Also, I'm from Europe so Hell, at 16 we were allowed to buy wine and beer... let's be honest, who didn't dabble with alcohol around that age and regretted it. still think 17 is much too young to be a legal adult tho, wtf wizarding world?! xoxo**


	11. 5th Year - Part I

**October 1942**

Hermione was on her way to Hogsmeade when her housemate and his pretty girlfriend caught up with her. She'd been planning her trip for a while now, eager to get some alone time. Away from Riddle and his cronies for a few hours. But alas it was not meant to be, judging from the eager faces of the two people strolling alongside her.

"Sorry for interrupting your alone time-" Charlus began, and Hermione had to suppress a small smile at how well the boy was able to read her by now.

"-But we need to talk. Dorea practically coerced me into following you after spotting you from the tower."

Blushing at his playful accusation, said girl softly slapped his arm before turning her gaze towards Hermione, her warm eyes mustering the other girl for a moment."Hermione – good to see you. What my dear boyfriend actually meant to say was that he feels terrible about how he's been treating you and wants to apologise."

Hermione's eyes flickered back to her housemate, who gave her an apologetic smile in return.

"I'd have preferred to tell her that after we sat down at the three broomsticks, but I guess we could also do this out here - in the cold." He mumbled, promptly earning himself another smack from the Slytherin next to him, much to Hermione's amusement.

The two were just adorable together. It was apparent to everyone how besotted the Potter heir was with the young Black. Hermione cleared her throat, the two immediately putting a more appropriate distance between them.

"Right, sorry, Mione. Would you mind accompanying us to the pub and let me beg for your forgiveness over a nice butterbeer – My treat?" Flashing him a sincere smile, Hermione agreed and together they made their way towards Madame Rosmerta's pub...

* * *

"And after having to listen to this for weeks, I decided that it was best for my health to believe my dear love," Charlus explained while dipping some freshly baked bread into his hot soup.

Hermione sat silently across her two companions, listening to the boy's rambling without interrupting him. Dorea knew what a prick Prewett truly was, and after all this time, it felt immensely satisfying to finally hear it from her own friend's mouth. He had sided with Minerva for the better part of their fallout which had hurt Hermione more than she'd care to admit to herself.

She really didn't have that many friends in this time. The fact that most of them tended to have some awfully questionable worldviews certainly not making things any easier. Therefore, Charlus actually apologising to her in person meant a lot to the young witch.

"I'd say I told you so, but I think you've suffered enough as it is." Charlus looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulder. He instinctively reached for his girlfriend's hand, relief clearly written all over his face. Dorea gave him an encouraging pat on the back of his hand and turned towards Hermione.

"It really is a shame that you had such a big fight over that pathetic excuse for a boy, but I'm sure McGonagall will get over her misguided anger sooner or later. She's a Gryffindor after all."

Her subtle jab towards her house did not escape Hermione, but she knew that Dorea meant no harm. "I hope you're right, what she did wasn't right, but she's still my friend,"

Dorea jokingly rolled her eyes at Hermione. "Gryffindors and their ridiculous loyalty."

The three of them laughed at Dorea's exasperated sigh, before returning to their beers and enjoying themselves for a few more hours, Charlus and Hermione being equally relieved to be back on speaking terms again...

* * *

On the first day of November, Hermione found herself browsing through the library again. After a few particularly restless nights she had decided that she couldn't continue to pretend to be oblivious about the circumstances of Myrtle Warrens death any longer.

Her nightmares had been getting worse over the past weeks, the suppressed memories of that awful night resurfacing in full force every time she closed her eyes.

She knew that this was not a healthy way of dealing with things, but since she couldn't just sit down with someone and talk about this, Hermione decided that she could at least make sure, that the Basilisk wouldn't return fifty years later and try to eat her best friend.

Hermione's fingers wandered over the spines of the books she was currently browsing through, searching for the title that had been referenced in one of her previous research projects. "Mystical bindings, mystical brews – finally, Mystical creatures volume one." Hermione crouched down and carefully pulled the heavy leatherback from the shelf. It was nearly as high as her torso, its stained pages crumbling at the edges as she unceremoniously lowered herself to the floor and opened the ancient tome.

 _This obviously hasn't been read in a very long time_. Delicately turning another page of the old book, Hermione let her gaze wander over the hand-painted drawings of the lesser-known magical creatures on the British Isles.

She had been looking for some time for helpful information about the giant serpent, residing underneath the dungeons of the castle, but due to a ban on breeding them in the middle ages, it was hard to find reliable sources concerning the scaled creatures. After crossing her last option from her long list of potential leads, she had been ready to give up when she had suddenly remembered reading about the book she was currently browsing through during her research into Hippogriffs.

After inquiring about the text at the front desk, the librarian had looked up the encyclopaedia from the early sixteenth century and had given Hermione the shelf number with a stern warning to be careful with the ancient book, even though it had been enchanted to withstand the perils of time.

Focussing her attention back onto the text before her, Hermione took out her notebook. "Basilisks don't stop growing until their death. Well, this explains its ridiculous size then." Chewing on her bottom lip, she took a few notes on the serpent's physical features before continuing to search for what she was really looking for. _How do you kill this thing without kicking the bucket yourself_? Given the fact that she was neither an accomplished swordswoman nor fate's favourite like Harry had been, she doubted that she could just waltz into the chamber with a sword and sheer dumb luck and live to tell the tale.

"It's a general misconception that a Basilisk is a mindless predator, they're quite docile when given the right incentive." A voice spoke right next to her. Startled Hermione scrambled away from the boy behind her, nearly ripping one of the precious pages from the tome in the process.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Riddle?" She hissed, quickly pushing herself up from the ground.

Glaring incredulously at the older Slytherin who was now looking through her notes, Hermione walked towards him. "Who told you it was okay to just read someone else's notes?"

She began, but Tom interrupted her. "Any particular reason you're researching this creature, Hermione?" His voice sounded deceptively calm, but Hermione knew better than to trust his outer façade. _This is bad, really bad_. Scrambling for a believable excuse, she opened her mouth, before quickly closing it again at his hard stare.

"It's for a project I'm working on for extra cred-"

"No, try again." He spoke coldly, his grey eyes still scanning the small notebook in his hands instead of watching her.

Irritated at his dismissive tone, Hermione bristled. "Would you at least let me finish my sentence before judging me, Tom?"

He finally looked up from her notes, turning his full attention to Hermione. "I'm not particularly happy with how this conversation is going Hermione so be a dear and tell me why you're really here."

Flinching at his void expression, Hermione rubbed her arms in an attempt to calm her racing heart. For just a second, his silvery voice seemed to envelop her mind in a hazy fog before she registered the meaning behind the string of words that sprang from his unfairly smooth lips.

Since her birthday something had changed between them, but she couldn't put a finger on exactly what that was. Tom seemed less...volatile around her, no longer threatening her if he got agitated.

But this could also just be because she hadn't given him a real reason to do so. _Maybe he's actually learning to control his psychotic urges, wouldn't that be great_. If he wanted to become the Minister of Magic, he could hardly go around cursing people left and right if they didn't agree with his every word. _At least not in the beginning_. A shudder ran down her back.

"Well, I'm sorry if you're not happy with the truth, but what do you want me to do about it?" She eventually answered, watching his carefully collected expression falter for a second.

"If you don't want to explain yourself, I guess I have to do it for you." Leaning against one of the shelves, he folded his arms. "You're clever, so you didn't believe for a second that Myrtle Warren was killed by that Half-giant's pet spider. Wracking your pretty little head for an explanation, you stumbled across the Basilisk and after reading that only a parselmouth can control the creature you immediately connected the dots and that's why you're so hesitant to answer me right now." His gleaming eyes found hers. Hermione felt her heart constrict at the emptiness she found behind them.

"You're afraid of what I'd do to you if I found out you knew, but you're also a Gryffindor, so you ignored that very healthy instinct and continued with your research." Hermione gulped as he finished, taken aback by how fast he'd figured her out. Or at least the general idea, she didn't think he'd actually believe she'd try to slay a Basilisk. She was brave, not suicidal.

"You killed an innocent girl Tom, of course, I'm wary of you." She argued, feeling that this was indeed a valid excuse for her reaction. He seemed to think for a moment before closing his eyes, pinching the crease between his eyebrows. He looked genuinely exhausted. She wondered where all this was suddenly coming from.

"If you weren't so useful to me I would've gotten rid of you a long time ago Hermione." At his casual mention of him killing her, Hermione pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep herself from snapping at him.

"Warren was at the wrong place at the wrong time, I never intended for her to die," Tom spoke calmly, causing Hermione in turn to furrow her brows. _Is he really trying to defend himself right now_?

"The poor girl still lost her live Tom, accident or not. The Basilisk is dangerous. If another...accident, like this happens, the school will be closed down for good." She knew she had him at the mention of the loss of his home of choice. Not even the power over an ancient, giant serpent was reason enough to risk his stay at Hogwarts.

Regarding her, with an unreadable expression, Hermione waited for the Slytherin to formulate an answer to her warning. "You're overstepping your boundaries, Lestrange, I have it under control."

"Do you? I'm not asking you to get rid of it, but what guarantee do you have that this won't happen again? Heir of Slytherin or not, accidents will always happen." His lips were pressed into a thin line, and she knew that she had to tread carefully.

"Think about it, if Hogwarts closes its doors, you'll have to attend a new school. Probably Durmstrang or Beauxbatons and all your work here will have been for nothing." Her voice had taken on a pleading edge, but she didn't care. This was her first real opportunity to make a difference.

"There is a spell –" He began, causing Hermione to bite her lips to contain her excited smile. _Is he really contemplating this? Is Rodolphus' plan to change the future actually possible_? Up until now, everything bad had still happened regardless of her efforts, but this was new. A change in the story. If Riddle got rid of the Basilisk, Ginny would be safe in the future.

"The Basilisk would go into a state of hibernation. It cannot be woken for another one hundred years after the spell takes effect." Overwhelmed that he'd really confide in her, listen to her - Hermione just nodded hastily, showing that she was still paying attention.

"If I do this, you'll swear on your life to never tell a soul about any of this." It was by far the best deal she'd get out of this situation. The Basilisk would be gone for a long time, she could continue her research, and Riddle wouldn't be able to call on it for another century.

It was perfect. Hermione took his outstretched hand, feeling the magic of their promise sinking into her magical core. It wasn't as strong as an unbreakable vow, but a magical promise still was a painful ordeal if broken...

* * *

"Good, I'll see to it tonight. Put that book away before someone else begins to question your literary choices." Without missing a beat, he turned around, his robes billowing behind his long legs as he left her gaping after him in the narrow corridor.

 _She'd done it. Actually done it_! Their plan, five years in the making, was finally coming to fruition. She was painfully aware of the fact that she only played a minor role in his decision to put the Basilisk to sleep. But it was still her argument that had led him to actually go through with the plan.

On his own, he might've been doubtful but nonetheless ensnared by the intoxicating lure of power that came with controlling such a creature, but with her beside him, there would always be another voice of reason. Someone that he knew he could trust, someone he didn't have to pretend with.

And then Hermione Granger finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. She'd doubted that the Lestrange's plan would work, but this, this was proof that it did and it gave Hermione the necessary boost of motivation to continue her efforts to change the path Tom Riddle was walking on. She didn't expect miracles, she didn't assume she could sway him to give up on his ambitions, but she could steer some of his most extreme ideas in a more agreeable direction. Compromise as she'd done just now with the Basilisk.

* * *

 **December 1942**

 _"You're a traitor Hermione Granger!" Ron and her were standing in a dark room. Hermione covered her ears, but his anger came crashing down on her shivering form like a freezing wave._

 _"Collaborator! Imposter! Liar, filthy Mudblood liar!" Hermione curled into herself, desperately trying to escape this horrible nightmare. She felt her heart clench at the sight of her once boyfriend's mangled form, the blood on his torso standing in stark contrast to his pale skin. "Please make it stop, please."_

 _She couldn't move her lips, her body was frozen in place while her mind was yelling at her to run away from the blurred spectre that seemed to stand a little closer every time she blinked. When it reached her, cold, terrifying dread crawled under her skin towards her heart. She pulled herself away from Ron, and suddenly the world around her crumbled like burnt logs in a fire._

"I'm sorry!" Hermione shot up from her bed, desperately clawing at her covers, the burning feeling of her boyfriend's hands on her arms still present. When she finally managed to detangle herself from the heavy fabric, she pushed herself up and stumbled towards the shared girl's bathroom. Ron's bloodied face still fresh in her mind, the girl began scrubbing her hands with the heavily scented soap of one of her roommates standing next to the sink. The sickly sweet smell of vanilla made her feel nauseous, but she kept rinsing her hands until the skin turned bright red. _Fuck_! Her heart hammered against her chest, as she tried to calm her erratic breathing, telling herself over and over again that it was just a dream.

 _Ron is dead. They're all dead. It was just a nightmare_. Deciding that going back to bed was the last thing she wanted to do, Hermione tiptoed back into her dorm room, and sat down at her desk, once again grateful for the muffling charms that she had put up around her bed. After lighting the enchanted candle next to her, she opened one of her Herbology books and began rereading their current project until she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

Shooting a quick glance towards the window, she watched the first rays of sunshine colour the sky crimson. _No use going back to sleep now_. Just after finishing that thought she heard one of her dorm mates stir from her slumber. Closing her book, she got up and began packing her bag for the day.

"Spend the night studying again?" She nodded at Rosa Brown's tired question, before stepping back into the bathroom to get changed.

"I swear one day you'll regret skipping your precious beauty sleep, Lestrange." Chuckling the other girls started to get up as well, their idle morning chatter echoing faintly through the large bathroom door where Hermione stood crouched over the sink. _I need help_...

* * *

The ride home went by fast. Hermione found herself sharing a compartment with Charlus and Dorea, the three of them spending their time chatting about school and their plans for the Holidays. Later, Dolohov once again joined them, fed up with his own housemates.

Hermione gladly made room on her side for the broody Ravenclaw. At nearly sixteen, he looked less like a boy and more like his future death eater self. She sometimes caught herself staring, searching for any hints of his former self. A slip in his behaviour, the hateful sneer every time he had looked at Potter's Mudblood during their encounters in the future. But she'd found nothing. She'd never even heard him use any hateful slurs towards muggle-borns nor had he ever been less than civil towards her. He'd been one of the only boys on her birthday that had opposed going down to the village, contrary to everything Hermione had come to expect from a future follower of Voldemort.

Once again, she wondered how this studious boy would one day throw his morals out of the window to pledge his loyalty to a bigoted madman. It just didn't make any sense to her.

"So, does your family have any exciting Yule traditions, I heard they moved here from Russia?" Dorea Black asked from her seat next to her boyfriend.

Incredulously, Hermione watched the older boy beside her struggling to form a proper answer to Dorea's question. _What in Merlin's name_ -

"We- usually we visit our relatives and celebrate with the entire community." He may have looked composed to the other two people in the compartment, but Hermione nearly did a double-take at the faint blush that spread across his cheeks and ears. _Evan and Abraxas will never let him live this down if I tell them_.

"Oh? It's the opposite here, people tend to stay with their families." Dorea explained, oblivious to Antonin's flustered antics.

Hermione nearly lost it when she saw him take a deep breath at Dorea's thoughtful expression. Watching the girl twirl her dark locks, she could see why Antonin was struggling. Hermione had never met a Black that wasn't somewhat pleasant to look at, and Dorea was no exception to that observation. Even though the girl couldn't hold a candle to her older cousins Walburga and Lucretia, she was still pretty.

At the thought of the older Black heiresses, Hermione mused if the price for their fairness was their severe lack in character. She had only met the two seventh years once while spending time with Cygnus and the other boys, their noses seemingly so high up in the air that they couldn't see the ground they were walking on anymore.

"We should be arriving soon, could you hand me the bag above your head, Dolohov?" Craning his neck, the Ravenclaw searched for Dorea's bag before silently waving the wand he had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, levitating the small suitcase onto Dorea's lap.

Admiring his silent spellwork, Dorea rewarded the boy with a warm smile, causing Antonin, in turn, to blush even harder much to Hermione's amusement.

"It seems, Charlus didn't exaggerate when he told me that everyone in your little group is very talented with their wands." Snickering discreetly behind her sleeve at the girl's unintended innuendo Hermione knew, that Antonin had caught on as well when he shot her a baleful glare.

Unaware of their friends' silent exchange, Charlus and Dorea stood up from their seats as the train began to slow down and made their way towards the narrow sliding doors of their compartment.

"We'll head out first, I want to say goodbye to my roommates before we arrive," Charlus told them before proceeding to levitate their bags out of the compartment.

"Catch you later, Hermione, don't forget my present. Have a nice Yule fest, Dolohov." Giving the two a final wave, he and his girlfriend slid the door open and left in search for Charlus' housemates.

Hermione turned back to Antonin. "Not a word Lestrange." He hissed, clearly uncomfortable with her knowing smirk.

"You fancy her, don't you." Spluttering, the other boy crossed his arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. I could practically see the stars in your eyes."

Covering his mouth with his hand, he regarded her with a dark look. "I'll hex you if you ever tell Abraxas or Evan about this."

"I'd never betray your trust, Antonin. I'm not a Slytherin." She said cheekily, enjoying the sour look on the other boy's face tremendously.

"Hilarious Lestrange, we should get ready as well. The train is already pulling into Kings Cross." Turning her head, she watched the passing lights in the tunnel as they came to a halt.

"All jokes aside, Dorea and Charlus are very happy together, and it should stay that way." She liked Dolohov..well..at least to a certain degree, but those two were the future parents of Harry's father, and she would be damned if anyone came between the two lovebirds.

"He's a blood traitor, and she's a Black. Happiness is not a factor her parents will consider in her marriage agreement." He took her coat from one of the hangers and held it out for her to put it on.

"He's still a Potter. And if this isn't enough for them, then it's their loss." She was treading on thin ice, and they both knew it. If she hadn't known that Dorea would, in fact, marry Harry's grandfather in the future, she wouldn't have spoken so openly about a Black turning her back on her family.

These were different times. A witch could lose everything in an instant if her family cast her out, but in Dorea's case, Hermione knew that Charlus would take care of her better than anyone else in this world.

"You should watch your words with other people about this." His mouth set in a grim line, Dolohov waved his wand again to levitate their own luggage towards the exit.

Hermione mulled over his words for a few seconds. He seemed to understand her contemplative look and let out a heavy sigh. "You're my friend Hermione, Black might be pretty, but she's not the only witch in Britain. I'll get over it."

"That's it? Feelings usually don't work this way, Antonin. You can't just stop liking someone."

Grabbing her shoulders and lightly steering the incredulous girl out of the compartment, Dolohov leaned forward. "Let's just forget this whole train ride ever happened and concentrate on our assignments. I don't want to talk about it ever again."

"What the – come on you can't be serious, Antonin." Grinning at her, the Ravenclaw shrugged his shoulders before taking her hand and helping her off the steep stairs of the train.

Hermione looked up at the pale boy, scowling when she saw nothing but the polite mask he seemed to put on most of the time. "I-"

"Hermione." He interrupted her.

"Antonin." She snapped back.

"Have a nice holiday, I'll send you my draft for Slughorns assignment later this week." Scrunching her nose at his infuriating behaviour, Hermione snatched her bags from the air and turned on her heels.

"Boys." She grumbled, not sparing Dolohov another glance before making her way towards the exit where Loreen and Rabastan were already waiting for her. _Useless buffoons, the lot of them_...

* * *

Dropping two more spoons of sugar into her tea, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. She inhaled the rich scent of strawberries and vanilla. Loreen always liked to serve toothachingly sweet blends in the afternoon, and she took a twisted kind of joy from being able to ruin her teeth as much as she wanted after being away from her parents' watchful eyes.

Rodolphus and Rabastan were away for some business until the day after tomorrow, and Hermione found herself actually missing the two men. Spending the weekend with Loreen and Edwin playing a big part in that sentiment.

"Don't forget that the Blacks will come for dinner tomorrow. Why don't you get yourself something nice to wear for the occasion?" One didn't have to be a genius to pick up on the judgemental undertone Loreen liked to use whenever Hermione sported one of her daring pantsuits.

The woman's apparent dislike of her progressive fashion choices made Hermione that much happier whenever she ordered a new set from her favourite French boutique.

"I just got a new tea-gown last month. Isn't that enough?" Filling her small plate with some more biscuits, Hermione watched the woman frown at her question. _She's probably trying to remember which one I'm talking about_.

"Is it the one with the embroidered hem, the blue one?" Scrunching her delicate nose, Loreen watched her niece's overfilled plate.

"Yes. No pants, so no worries that I might offend our esteemed guests," Hermione replied, feeling like she'd been more than generous with this dress choice. While the British wizarding population seemed to be hell-bent on being stuck in the past with not only fashion, most countries on the continent had caught up to the current muggle mode, and it wasn't uncommon to see German or French witches sporting much more daring outfits than their British counterparts.

"I know that your family is used to how things were back in France. But would it really be so hard for you to wear a proper dress for once?" Loreen sounded quite desperate. Hermione wondered how exhausting her life had to be - always trying to impress, to be perfect. If it weren't for the grand families like the Blacks and Malfoys, all of this would've been a thing of the past.

"These are the forties Aunt Loreen, don't you think we should have the right to be more than pretty faces by now?" As expected Hermione watched Loreen's eyes glaze over.

"Your dress should suffice. Be a dear and look after Edwin for a second while I freshen up." Suppressing an annoyed sigh, Hermione stood up and made her way up to her baby cousin's nursery, praying that he was still asleep.

Throughout the past week, she had once again realised that she just really wasn't good with kids. Edwin was precious no doubt, but always having to be available when he called, answering each of his silly questions and reading mind-numbingly simple stories while she could have worked on her own essays was irritating, to say the least.

Silently opening the door, Hermione patted towards his crib. The boy was still fast asleep. Relieved, she hurriedly left the room, careful to not make a sound as she closed the door again.

The voices of at least two men that were definitely not her uncle and father, coming from the entrance hall, made her stop dead in tracks. Instantly wary, she pulled out her wand. Rodolphus wasn't home, so she thankfully didn't have to hand it over to Winny.

"Mr. Ross, it's such a pleasure. I hope Eleonora is in good health. It's been such a long time." _Ross_?

"My wife is well Mrs. Lestrange, I will pass along your regards." The man's deep voice echoed through the corridor.

Hermione watched the three enter the sitting room. _Loreen seems to know them_. Still suspicious of their unexpected visitors Hermione tiptoed towards the sitting room and continued to eavesdrop.

"Tea, Mr. Bagshot? We weren't expecting company, but the house elves can surely prepare a little something to go with it." At Loreen's sweet voice, Hermione feigned a gag and leaned her head back against the wall next to the door. _So, Ross and Bagshot. What could they possibly want_? Hermione had to suppress a shudder at the memory of the only other Bagshot she'd met in her life.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange. When can we expect your husband's return?" Hermione listed to the distinctive clatter of teacups being moved around, contemplating if she should make her presence known.

"They will be home by Sunday. If you don't mind me asking Mr. Ross, but what business might you have with my husband?"

"We have a sort of business proposition for the Lestrange family, it could be very lucrative for both parties if we came to an agreement." Hermione did not like the man's tone at all, and before they could persuade her aunt to sign something for them, she decided to step in.

Confidently raising her chin, she put on her best Narcissa impression and sauntered into the room, preening under Loreen's surprised gaze. It was the first time she'd been exposed to Hermione's full-blown pureblood princess performance.

"Ah, you must be the first daughter of the house. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Lestrange." Both men stood as it was custom, and Hermione expectantly held out her hand. Regarding the men with a haughty sneer, they quickly guided her pale knuckles to their lips.

"..Pleasure." Channelling every ounce of privilege she'd always looked down on in the past into her voice she gracefully made her way towards her former seat, aware of the men's eyes examining her loosely-fit trousers. _This is better than punching Malfoy in the face_.

After a moment of tense silence, the taller of the two men cleared his throat. "The name's Bagshot, I hope you adjusted well after your move from the continent Miss Lestrange."

She mustered Mr. Bagshot for a second, trying to find any resemblance to his namesake in the future. He had round cheeks and an impressive moustache that hid most of his upper lip, making him look older than he probably was.

His partner had deep-set eyes and hollow cheeks. Some woman might have described his face as handsome, but to Hermione, he just looked like some poor imitation of a nineteen-fifties Dracula.

"I'm enjoying my school days very much. The weather is ghastly, but this was to be expected." Delicately crossing her ankles, she saw Loreen nearly drop her teaspoon from the corner of her eyes and had to suppress a snicker. The poor woman probably wondered where she'd learned to be such a refined witch when all she ever saw of her were her dishevelled form after pulling another all-nighter in the library.

Leaning forward, she regarded their two visitors with a curious gaze. "So what do you do, Mr. Ross, Mr. Bagshot, do you work for the Ministry?"

"You can say that Miss Lestrange. We specialise in foreign affairs." Bagshot answered, his moustache moving in a way that became increasingly irritating to Hermione.

Just as she was about to answer, she caught a glimpse of some sort of pendant around Mr. Ross' neck. It didn't even take a second for her to recognise the familiar triangle. _Fuck_.

Shooting up from her seat, the men stumbled to stand as well, their questioning looks causing Hermione to nearly draw her wand. "I suddenly feel very tired. If you'd excuse me, gentlemen, I think I spent too much time on my assignment the night before."

Mr. Ross narrowed his eyes at her sudden change in behaviour, but Loreen just tutted at Hermione's flimsy excuse. "Hermione don't be rude and sit down, I must apologise for my niece's behaviour gentlemen."

Struggling to keep her calm, Hermione bit her lips. "Then I shall return shortly, after freshening up a little." Seemingly accepting her offer, Loreen gave her a curt nod. Hermione tried to channel her inner Pureblood again before gracefully stepping out of the room. The moment she was out of sight, she donned her haughty façade and sprinted towards to kitchen.

"Winny! Winny! Where are my father and uncle at the moment?" Coming to an abrupt halt in front of her befuddled house-elf Hermione attempted to catch her breath, her fingers feeling stiff from how tight she was clutching her wand.

"Winny does not know Miss Hermione. The Masters did not want to be disturbed."

Letting out an exasperated huff, Hermione grabbed her hair. "This is serious Winny. You need to tell me the truth!"

"Winny does not know. Winny is so sorry, Winny has disappointed her Miss!" Before the elf could fall into another of her self-loathing tirades, Hermione grabbed her by the shoulders and knelt down.

"Listen to me Winny, you and the other elves need to get Edwin and Loreen out of here. Grindelwald's men are here, and the two can't defend themselves." Her house-elves' eyes grew wider with every word she spoke, but Hermione didn't have time to explain any further.

Every second she spent away from them allowed their visitors to attack.

"Winny, I'll leave Edwin to you. I'll get Loreen. Then the other elves can get her out of here, understood?" Trying to come up with a plan on how to deal with their visitors, she began pacing from one end of the narrow kitchen to the other.

"Right. No time to waste, Expecto Patronum!" The silvery form of her otter danced around her shoulders before coming to a halt in front of her face.

"Grindelwald's men are here. Come home now." Closing her eyes, she envisioned Rodolphus' face until she felt her Patronus fading, knowing it was on his way to the older wizard. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to get her crackling curls under control while making her way back to the sitting room. Determined to get the men away from Loreen, she formulated a plan...

* * *

"So, tell me about your life before your family moved here, Miss Lestrange. What did your father do?" Gripping her cup in an attempt to still her trembling hands, Hermione pursed her lips as if she was trying very hard to remember her younger childhood years.

"I was only ten when we moved, I cannot recall much." She began, watching the other two elves of the household stand ready by the door behind the men.

"People were afraid. Entire families left overnight... One day we decided that we should return to Scotland." She stayed purposely vague in her story, playing the too-young-to-remember card whenever she could. Glancing towards the large clock above the fireplace, Hermione pressed her lips together. _What's taking them so long_?

"Afraid you say. Do you know why the people fled?" Mr. Bagshot asked, his beady eyes following every little movement she made.

"Grindelwald is controlling most of France by now. It wasn't safe there anymore." Narrowing her eyes, she gave the two men an icy glare.

"Is that so. And why wouldn't it be safe for a reputable pureblood family anymore?" Now it was Ross' turn to interrogate Hermione, and they all knew, that it would only take one slip up on her part for them to draw their wands. The only one still oblivious to what was happening was Loreen who looked more interested in getting to hear about her elusive husband's past than paying attention to the dangerous atmosphere around her.

"I don't know what you're insinuating Mr. Ross, but I'd tread carefully if I were you, my father is a powerful man." The temperature in the room seemed to drop at Hermione's words. Mr. Bagshot's eyes darted towards Loreen, who finally seemed to have realised that something was amiss. Hermione took the opportunity to attack.

"Expelliarmus!" She yelled just as the bearded man aimed his own wand at her aunt. Despite being the brightest witch of her age, Hermione knew that she probably wouldn't last long against two of Grindelwald's lieutenants while also protecting Loreen. The moment her spell collided with a powerful shield Ross had conjured just in time to defend his partner, Hermione silently swung her wand and Loreen was flung across the room towards their waiting house-elves who vanished as soon as she was within their reach.

"Wicked girl. Should've kept quiet, get her Bagshot." Hermione ducked away from the red streaks of light coming her way, hastily conjuring her own shield before going into the offence. With Loreen and Edwin out of the house, she didn't have to worry about damage control.

"Expulso!" The fireplace right beside Bagshot exploded with a deafening bang, hauling the older man off his feet. Before he had a chance to recover Hermione send another curse in his direction, watching satisfied as the man went down.

"Reducto." The spell crashed into Hermione's shield with such a force that she nearly lost her footing. Ross fired two more spells into her direction, each one sending crackling ripples through her wavering shield. _This man is way stronger than Bagshot_.

Feeling her chest constrict at the sudden realisation that she was not powerful enough to fend the man off for much longer, she wracked her brain for a way to get out of this fight fast.

"Protego Maxima, Protego Horribilis." Putting all of her focus into conjuring a barrier that would hold against the man's spells, Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken every time something impacted with her shield. Turning on her heels, she skittered across the floor before ducking behind one of the sofas.

"Give up, girl, you're in way over your head." Peering over the edge of the burnt seat, she watched the man lean over his unconscious partner. Hurling another spell at Ross, she watched him deflect the curse easily before waking up his partner with a simple Rennervate. _Come on_!

"Seriously!?" She hissed as she watched the two men walking towards her. Pressing her eyes together for a split second, she pulled herself up and ran towards the back of the room, throwing every spell she could think of at the two men.

"Not so fast, Miss Lestrange." The doors in front of her closed with a resolute bang, forcing her to come to a sudden halt. Trying to catch her breath, Hermione whirled around and glared at the two men.

"Why are you here? What do you want from us?!" Instead of answering her, Ross whirled another curse at her already unstable shield, and she watched in horror as the protective blue sheen dissolved with a final hiss under Ross spell.

Before she could react, Bagshot waved his wand, and all air suddenly escaped her body. Crumbling to the ground, Hermione scratched her throat in a desperate attempt to fill her burning lungs with air.

"That's enough Bagshot, she's still valuable." Feeling the oppressing weight lift from her body, she took a few greedy breaths.

* * *

"Hands off my daughter, you bastards!" Hearing the familiar voice of her father, Hermione let out a relieved sob, lifting her head just in time to see Rabastan hurling a myriad of hexes towards her two attackers.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Rodolphus was suddenly by her side, cradling the trembling girl in his arms. He was clad in his old death eater robes, the expensive leather glowing with protective runes.

Hermione tried to gather her thoughts, but she felt so tired. _Why is it so cold in here_?

"Damn it, what's wrong love. Talk to me." The world tilted. Rodolphus' voice sounded as if they were underwater. Hermione tried to swallow the burning liquid that was rising up her throat, but when she opened her mouth, crimson stained her father's warm hands. Cursing Rodolphus instantly pulled Hermione closer, the familiar smell of the burning Hogwarts grounds engulfing her mind as she slipped into unconsciousness...

"So I did hit her. I was wondering, my aim is never off." The voice of the man called Ross ripped Rodolphus from his whirling thoughts, his eyes instantly focusing back on the unnaturally white face of the still girl in his arms.

He felt his reason slipping with every breath he took. It must have been apparent on his face because the intruder suddenly raised his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. "Calm down Lestrange, she brought this on herself. What kind of well-behaved witch attacks two grown wizards."

Rodolphus hadn't felt such burning rage in decades. All he wanted to do was rip the two men in front of him apart, but he had to take care of Hermione. He had to get her away from this.

"How dare you attack the heir of house Lestrange," Rabastan growled from his position right behind his brother's crouching form.

"Grindelwald's orders are clear. You either follow or you die. There is no place for traitors in this world." Bagshot spat, his eyes never leaving Rabastan's.

"What a waste of precious blood. We'll give you one last chance to come to your senses and pledge your alliances to the cause." Ross drawled, casting a meaningful glance at Hermione.

Clenching his teeth, Rodolphus stood, carefully pulling Hermione up with him. Standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, he sneered at the two men who dared to step foot into his house. "What makes you think you're in a position to demand anything from us?" He drawled, his clear mind hanging by a threat at this point. He had trouble focusing on anything else than the lifeless form in his arms. _Was she breathing_?

"The curse your precious child is currently afflicted with is one of my own creations. She'll be dead before the healers find out what's wrong with her." His insides twisted at the other man's words. "She has minutes at this point. You can try torturing me, but I can assure you I can handle a few crucio's"

Rabastan let out a frustrated cry, and a tell-tale green light shot from his wand towards the other wizard.

"No!" Rodolphus yelled, but before the curse could hit its target, Bagshot was suddenly pulled in front of Ross, his face forever frozen in terror as the spell engulfed his form.

"Nice try, now you killed my partner. I should just let your daughter suffocate on her own blood in return, don't you think?"

Pushing Hermione into his brother's tense arms, Rodolphus stepped towards the other man, the burnt floor splintering under his leather boots. "Speak. What do you want."

Ross' eyes turned dark as he too made his way towards the centre of the room. "We need spies on the isles. Your family is perfectly suited. You have political power through your seats in the Gamot, and your child will be able to identify potential recruits at school."

Coming to a halt, Rodolphus glared at Ross, feeling like liquid fire was coursing through his veins. He wanted to gauge his eyes out. Cut that cursed tongue out of his mouth and feed it to the pixies. _Was she still breathing_? "I want to speak to Grindelwald personally. I'll not take orders from some half-blood henchman who thinks he can threaten the ancient house of Lestrange and live to tell the tale."

Ross' face twisted into an ugly grimace. Rodolphus watched satisfied as the man struggled to regain his composure. His blood status seemed to be a sensitive issue, and he was more than happy to exploit the man's glaringly apparent insecurities.

"I'll relay your demands after my return. Now, do we have a deal, Mr. Lestrange? Your family's safety in return for your cooperation?"

Rodolphus turned his head back towards his brother. He slowly shook his head in return, but as his eyes drifted down to the unconscious girl in his arms, Rodolphus didn't think twice when he grabbed Ross' hand in a bruising grip. Their wrists glowing in the aftermath of sealing a magically binding agreement.

"You have yourself a deal. Now, heal her." At his words, Rabastan walked towards them, careful not to move his niece too much. His sleeves were stained with the blood that was seeping through her ruined clothes, and Rodolphus had to physically restrain himself from ripping Hermione out of his arms.

"Hurry up, if you want to live." He hissed at Grindelwald's minion, unable to conceal the burning rage that was slowly eating away his conscience.

He wanted to hold Hermione in his arms. Take his daughter far away from their unwelcome guest. _Was she breathing_? He'd first kill Ross and every one of his kin before coming back and making sure that every Lestrange followed his child to the grave. They were in this together or not at all. Rabastan would understand.

"Put her down on the sofa. I need to see the wound." Following his order, Rabastan carefully sat Hermione down before hastily making room for Ross.

The other man ripped her robes open without a second thought, and Rodolphus nearly lost it when the man ran his fingers over her flat abdomen. "Fifteen, right? It truly would've been a waste." He lifted Hermione's arm to get a better view of her bloodied side.

"If I see your hand wander away from her wound again I'll cut it off." Rabastan pulled his seething brother away from Ross, sensing that Rodolphus was edging dangerously close to the dark edges of his murderous mind.

Silence fell over the room, and for a few minutes, the two brothers watched their visitor hovering his wand over a palm-sized gash on Hermione's waist. After what had felt like an eternity, it finally closed with a sizzling sound, leaving only a faint scar in its wake.

Immediately ripping the man away from his daughter, Rodolphus gathered the still girl into his arms, checking her pulse for a sign of life in the process. _She's still breathing_. Relief flooded through him after feeling her warm body pressing up against his chest, and the world around him suddenly came into focus again.

His eyes wandered over the ruined furniture and the remainders of what was once a fireplace. Lowering his forehead onto Hermione's own, he inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo, that still lingered underneath the sharp smell of blood and remnants of dark magic.

"You'll hear from me." Rodolphus watched their visitor trying to apparate, but he hadn't moved to his old family home for nothing. The wards protecting the manor dated back to Merlin's times. They wouldn't let anyone leave, Rodolphus didn't want to leave.

Sensing that something was off, Ross managed to catch a glimpse of Rodolphus' manic grin before the blood-boiling curse hit the man. The Lestrange Patriarch watched satisfied as the other man realised what was happening to him.

"You broke our deal." Ross wailed as his organs were boiled alive, only earning himself an unhinged chuckle from Rodolphus.

"Next time you shouldn't make deals with a dead man walking." Rodolphus held up his hands and watched the sparking magic of their deal evaporate.

"Impossible." He should've been writhing in pain at this point, but it seemed like he'd been right. Breaking a magical vow couldn't kill someone who had already died once before.

Rabastan laughed loudly behind them, "Brother, you're absolutely mad. Brilliant but mad." The two brothers watched the other man succumb to the pain after a few more minutes of absolute agony, their grim faces standing in stark contrast to Ross' contorted visage.

They continued to stand silently for a while longer, taking in what had just happened and in Rodolphus' case coming off his adrenaline-induced high he had often succumbed to during his death eater days. The girl in his arms was the only thing stopping him from going on a murder spree down the next village, and when he finally managed to compose himself sufficiently, he cleared his throat. Shifting his hold on his daughter, he made his way up towards her bedroom.

"Merlin, what happened here." Loreen's shrill cries echoed through the halls of the manor, her uncontrolled sobs after spotting the bodies of their two visitors in the sitting room, giving the man a headache.

Lowering his unconscious child onto the bed, he sat down next to her and proceeded to clean the blood from her face and body with a quick wave of his wand. Conjuring a nightgown, he vanished her ruined robes. When he spotted her new scar, he felt the familiar anger rising in his chest. At the memory of that filthy half-bloods hands on her body, he had to close his eyes to compose himself. After revelling in the memory of Ross' lifeless body hitting the floor, he felt himself calm down and went on to spell the nightgown onto Hermione's body.

Satisfied, he pulled the covers over her small form and proceeded to pull her desk chair towards her side of the bed. Making himself as comfortable as one could in a wooden chair, he took one of her hands in his and leaned back. Not ready to leave her alone again after what had happened. "Merlin, this girl will be the death of me."

* * *

' **Ello! Thanks for your patience, I had this thing sitting on my pc for months. Wasn't happy with the entire chapter, so I finally rewrote it today. xoxo**


	12. 5th Year - Part II

**December 1942**

The ticking of the ancient clock in Rodolphus' study was the only sound echoing through the dimly lit room. Watching the intricately carved clock hands move forward once again, Hermione wondered when anyone would address last night's events.

She peered over to the woman sitting next to Rabastan, the dark circles under her eyes prominent on her pale complexion. It was the first time, Hermione had seen Rabastan's wife without her hair styled to perfection. Loreen looked surprisingly young without her usual up do's, and it suddenly became clear to Hermione that the mother of her cousin was still only twenty-six years old. She'd lived a sheltered life - happy with caring for her children and looking after the house for the rest of her days. Watching her adolescence niece take on two grown wizards, nearly dying in the process and then having to clean the bloodstains from her carpets was probably not what she'd imagined after marrying Rabastan.

Eventually becoming fed up with the uncomfortable silence, her uncle cleared his throat. "We can explain, love." Closing his mouth with an audible gasp at his wife's icy glare, he reached for her hands.

"Don't." Forcefully pulling away from her husband, Loreen's eyes wandered over the two other occupants of the room.

"I want the truth, Rabastan. We could've died yesterday!" Loreen hissed, wiping away the fresh tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

Swallowing down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, Hermione averted her gaze and shifted a little closer to Rodolphus, who hadn't left her side since the previous night.

"I'm so sorry love if I'd known we wouldn't have left." It was a hollow excuse. Hermione could practically see Loreen's blood pressure rising at her husband's sorry attempted to console the woman.

"But you did. You did leave and don't think for a second I'll ever forgive you for endangering our son's life."

"You have every right to be angry with me. I promise to never let this happen again." Hermione and her father watched the exchange between the couple silently, content with pretending to not be in the room.

"I want an explanation. From all of you." Pulling on some invisible strings on her sleeves, Hermione waited for any of the two men to speak up. Rabastan turned to look at his older brother who regarded him with a look of betrayal, but as the head of the family, she guessed it was sort of his job to resolve this situation.

Scrunching his forehead, the older man wiped his brows and sat up a little straighter. "We didn't move back here for the good food and nice scenery Loreen. Our home was ravaged by war, we were caught up right in the centre of the fighting just before we...left." He began, and Hermione had to give it to him. He sounded so genuine even she would've been fooled if she hadn't known better.

"What about the rest of your family? They didn't even attend the wedding, I remember my mother telling me about that unwanted Lestrange girl she went to school with." Loreen might have been sheltered, but she wasn't stupid. Something that became increasingly clear to not only Hermione.

"You're talking about Leta Lestrange. I didn't know her, she died before Hermione was born." Hermione's breath hitched. She didn't know much about the Lestrange's in this time, with the two brothers having gone to great lengths to conceal their true origins. The thought that there were, in fact, other members of their family still very much alive was daunting.

"There aren't many left of us. The few that are still alive are either supporting Grindelwald's cause or left the country as we did." It wasn't much of a surprise to Hermione that the Lestrange's seemed to have a thing for following power-hungry tyrants and she figured that this was one of the main reasons for Ross' and Bagshot's visit last night.

"So that's why you never introduced me to anyone," Loreen whispered.

"I should've been more honest with you from the start my love," Rabastan spoke, but Loreen just narrowed her eyes at him.

"You killed two men last night. Hermione didn't even hesitate to draw her wand. This- this isn't right!" Massaging her temples, the agitated woman leaned back into her seat.

"She was defending herself. Would you rather have us do nothing in the future?" Rodolphus asked with a raised voice.

"Brother!" Rabastan cut in.

"What? It's the truth."

"Defending yourself and killing a person are two completely different things." Loreen hissed, and Hermione felt her father tense up next to her.

"Why didn't you call the Aurors, why did the house-elves vanish the bodies?" The questions shot like bullets from her trembling lips.

Hermione's stomach churned at the woman's accusing words. She hadn't killed in cold blood like the two Lestrange brothers had, but she'd had her fair share of deadly encounters.

Hermione was trying to cope with all the horrible things that had happened during her school days by rationalising her actions. Telling herself over and over that someone had to step up if they wanted to live to see another day.

"Your son is safe, and the threat is gone, what more is there to think about?" Rodolphus remarked, visibly irritated by Loreen's distress.

Hermione figured that in his mind, their actions were justified and Loreen's admittedly human reaction to the deaths of two people was something he just couldn't relate to anymore. _That's what happens if you spend half your life locked up in Azkaban and the other following orders of a madman_.

Rodolphus regarded Loreen with a hard stare, but it seemed like she wasn't ready to let this go just yet. "Rabastan why aren't you saying anything? Do you agree with your brother?"

Feeling the atmosphere shift, Rabastan grimaced. "This matter is much more complicated than a simple yes or no answer, love."

"Oh I think the question if murdering people is right or wrong should be pretty easy to answer, dear." Loreen snapped, fed up with Rabastans unambiguous stance. "

You'd understand if you knew what we've been through Loreen!" No longer able to maintain his calm, Rabastan sprang up from his seat next to his wife, looking like he was torn between just telling her everything and running away.

"Enough. I've no interest in watching your lovers spat. Loreen, it's not your place to question Rabastan's actions. He protected you and your son, so show a little respect." Sensing that this could turn ugly very quickly, Hermione grabbed Rodolphus' hand.

"Rod- father I'm still exhausted. Will you help me get back to my room?" Exploiting his unusual need to stay close to her, she watched satisfied as the man instantly shifted his focus back to his oh-so frail daughter. Biting back a small smile, she allowed the man to help her stand, even though she could've done it easily by herself by now.

Her wound didn't even sting anymore. Not that she'd let them know any time soon. Rodolphus' efforts to make her as comfortable as humanly possible, allowing her to get away with basically everything.

"This discussion is over. Rabastan, you can take care of the rest." Taking his outstretched hand, she slowly followed him to the door, careful not to walk too fast.

"How can you just leave? I deserve a proper answer." Loreen called after them,

"Love, don't." Rabastan interrupted, but his wife continued.

"What kind of father encourages his daughter to choose violence over dialogue. You've ruined this child Rodolphus, will you two do the same to Edwin?"

Faltering in her steps, Hermione felt her heart skip a beat at the woman's words. _Ruined_? Thinking of her cousin's innocent smile, Hermione felt guilt washing over her. Was Edwin doomed to follow in his father's footsteps?

Rodolphus' grip on her hand tightened uncomfortably. "It's not my concern how Rabastan decides to raise his children." He had stayed remarkably calm during this entire ordeal.

"Enough, Loreen." This time it was her uncle chastising the seething woman.

The air turned frigid. It seemed even his devotion to Loreen had its limits. This limit being his brother. Hermione could understand where he was coming from. Spending thirteen years in prison together, additional to being the last heirs of their once-great family, has made the two brothers inseparable.

The rapid decline of nearly every great wizarding family during the twentieth century had always fascinated Hermione. It felt surreal to live in a time where there were more Blacks than Weasleys running around Hogwarts. Laughing and talking with people like Avery and Evan who's family names were nothing but footnotes in the Ancestry Registry in her time. So much lost potential just because of two madmen hellbent on shaping the wizarding world after their twisted ideologies.

"Don't you dare Rabastan. You have no right to criticise me over this." His hand moved before Hermione had even gotten over Loreen's accusation.

Time seemed to slow down, and before anyone could react, Loreen had already drawn her wand. "Impedimenta!" Her spell hit Rabastan just as his hand was about to connect with her face and speechless Hermione watched the scene unfold in front of her.

"The audacity. To raise your hands against your own wife. How dare you?" The husband in question stood frozen as Loreen stepped away from the man, her wand casually disappearing up her sleeve again.

The room went quiet. Never in her life would Hermione have thought that this conversation would end with pretty Loreen immobilising her husband. She definitely had the element of surprise on her side, none of the people present believing her to be capable of such a feat, but she was still dumbstruck.

While Hermione was still busy wrapping her head around what just happened, Rodolphus was already a step ahead of her and drew his own wand.

"Leave him be. The spell will wear off in no time." Loreen glared at her father, daring him to free his brother. A heartbeat passed, and to her surprise, Rodolphus lowered his wand. "He shouldn't have underestimated you."

Loreen threw one last glare at her husband. "No, he really shouldn't have. I might not be as skilled as any of you three, but I'm for sure not a pushover." _She is amazing_. "This isn't over. I think Edwin and I will spend the weekend at my mother's." Wrapping her billowing robes tightly around her body, Loreen strode out of the room, the doors closing with a loud bang behind her.

"That was the most badass thing I've ever seen," Hermione muttered, still staring at the shut doors.

After a few seconds of silence, she heard Rabastan draw in a deep breath and turned to see him slowly regaining control over his body. "Well, brother seems like you got yourself a proper Lestrange wife after all." Rodolphus drawled, his face seemingly torn between a scowl and sarcastic grin.

"Oh, shut up, Rod."

"Aren't you going after her?" The older brother asked, earning himself a nasty glare.

"And start a blood feud between the Mulcibers and Lestranges? I think not. Her mother is a proper pain in the arse." Making his way towards the end of the room, the younger brother poured himself a glass of fire whiskey. "Once she's cooled off I'll get her." Sucking in a breath at the burning liquid pouring down his throat, Rabastan wiped his forehead.

"Shouldn't have tried to hit her."

"-definitely not."

"Oh shut up, brat." Rodolphus pushed Hermione behind him,

"Rabastan!"

"Forgive me, my wife just left me and took my son with her." The alcohol clearly already getting to him, Rabastan fell into the armchair next to the small bar.

"Morgana's tits quit being so dramatic. It takes two to start a fight."

Rolling his eyes at his younger brother's antics, Rodolphus carefully steered Hermione towards the doors.

"She had no right to talk to you like that, so next time maybe just use your wand instead of your fists."

"Not helping brother!" Rabastan yelled after them while Hermione just shook her head.

"Can't we just all agree that hitting witches is actually never okay and not repeat this in the future?"

Rodolphus let out a heavy sight. "You can always just strike back, you know Hermione? Just as Loreen just did." Hermione vehemently disagreed with that statement.

"Actually, no, most people can't. If Loreen hadn't had the element of surprise, she wouldn't have been able to fight off an angry ex-death eater."

The pair was walking up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom, "Not everyone is like your late wife, Rodolphus." Turning around another corner, Hermione looked up to her father.

"You know - the older you get, the more you look like her. Sometimes I wonder if there was a Black squib somewhere down the line in your family because the similarities are uncanny."

 _How ironic_. "Merlin forbid, I don't want to have anything in common Bellatrix Lestrange."

Finally arriving at her door, Rodolphus turned towards her. His eyes wandered over her burgundy robes before resting at her haphazardly arranged up-do, her curls threatening to spill from her many bobby pins.

"It's the hair. Definitely the hair." Chuckling, he ruffled the disgruntled girl's locks, taking delight in watching the curls finally spill from the numerous enchantments that elf of hers always put on her head in the morning.

"Oh, come on!" Swatting his prying hands away from her face, Hermione tried to salvage her hairdo.

"Do you know how long it takes to get them to stay in place every day? Might as well just cut them if everyone always has their hands in them anyways." Laughing at Rodolphus' shocked expression, Hermione stepped into her room.

"Don't you dare. It took five years to get them to an acceptable length for a proper witch." The man looked genuinely panicked, causing Hermione to giggle even louder.

"Then stop touching them!"

"Alright, Alright. No more ruining my precious daughter's hair, got it." Satisfied Hermione nodded.

Turning around to retire to his own rooms, Hermione quickly called after him. "Thanks again – for saving me yesterday." She murmured, watching the man falter in his steps.

"Anything for you, Hermione." His voice sounded strangely off.

"-Goodnight, father." She managed to choke out before hastily closing her doors.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Rodolphus whispered, unheard by the other occupants of the house...

* * *

 **February 1943**

"Hermione, wait!" Said girl turned around just in time to see her friend sprinting towards her.

"What is it Evan, I need to finish my assignment." Waiting for the boy to catch up to her before continuing her way down the corridor.

"We haven't seen each other in ages, can't I just be excited to see you?"

Before she could protest, the older boy had already snatched the books she was carrying from under her arms and slung his other free arm around her shoulders. _Merlin, this boy is getting worse with age_.

"I could've carried those myself you know?"

"I do, but this always gives me the perfect excuse to walk you to class." Giving her shoulders a tight squeeze, the boy rewarded her with his most dashing smile. Her breath hitched, and Hermione had to stop herself from blushing like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl. _Those dimples are gonna be the death of me_.

Utterly aware of the effect he was having on girls, Evan had made it his life's mission to make her uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't deny that it'd felt nice to have someone constantly shower her with compliments, especially if it came from the admittedly most attractive boy in Slytherin. Well, technically, that title belonged to Tom, but his megalomaniac tendencies did put a damper on his overall person for her.

She definitely understood how Tom had gotten accepted by even the most bigoted purebloods, his honeyed words and aptitude for magic attracting the noblest of houses like moths drawn to a flame.

"Would you do me the honour of being my date for this month's trip to Hogsmeade?"

"Absolutely not."

Not letting her rejection get to him, the boy let go of her, instead positioning himself in front of her, his back facing towards the chattering crowd around them. "Of course! Why settle for a date when you could be my girlfriend."

Rolling her eyes at the boy's dramatic antics, Hermione grabbed his arm just in time to keep him from bumping into another group of students.

"Watch where you're going for Merlin's sake." Keeping his eyes firmly glued on her, Evan sneakily moved his arm so that he could grab her hand. _Stubborn git_.

"Oy Rosier, stop harassing your little girlfriend and at least try to act like you've got some ba-" Before Avery could finish his crude mocking's Abraxas hit the boy over the head with his Herbology Book.

"Nice one Brax!" Evan cheered, dancing around Hermione, her hand still firmly in his, towards his friends. The group of sixth year Slytherins made room for the two and together they made their way towards the library.

"Watching you two is worse than reading my sister's creepy romance novels." Avery scowled, disdain clearly written over his sharp face.

Hermione finally managed to wriggle her hand out from Evan's surprisingly firm grip. "Believe me, I'd be forever grateful to you if you got him off my back." Pointing at the blond Slytherin still carrying her books, Hermione pursed her lips. "And while you're at it, teach him about this thing called personal space, would you?"

Laughing at the crestfallen look on Evan's handsome face the rest of the boys pulled the other Slytherin backwards, clapping his back and tussling his perfectly coifed curls much to Hermione's glee.

"Don't get all gloomy over this Rosier, there are plenty of fish in the sea," Avery spoke, earning himself a rather nasty glare from the Rosier heir.

"Why settle for some random bird when you can have to the most talented, beautiful witch in the school instead?"

"Merlin give me whatever potion he's been drinking since second year." Avery howled, clearly finding the idea of anyone fancying Hermione hilarious.

"You're just jealous that I'll get to marry a Lestrange while you'll end up with one of your Parkinson cousins."

Spluttering Hermione nearly stumbled over her feet at his bold claim. "How did we go from first date to marriage in one conversation?"

Once again Evan took her hand in his. "Just give me a chance, Hermione. I'll serenade you every night and shower you with the most precious jewels." The sad thing was that Hermione didn't think he was entirely joking.

"One date. That's it. After that, you'll leave me alone if I ask you to." Feeling like she'd just signed her soul over to the devil, she watched Evan's smile returning in full force.

"Yes! Of course. Anything you say, Mione." He was practically bouncing, "You'll have me eventually."

"Urgh," Cringing at his over the top behaviour, Hermione subtly pulled away from the beaming boy.

"Great, now we have to listen to his gibbering every night until next Sunday." Avery shot a glare towards the embarrassed girl but was cut short by Abraxas.

"Oh, leave him be. He's been trying to get her to agree to a date for years."

"Pathetic." Pulling at the strap of his backpack, the older boy brushed past the rest of the group.

"Owl me when you two are finished with each other." Watching after Avery's retreating form, Hermione suddenly spotted Riddle in the crowd, and before her rational mind could stop her, she waved her hand.

"Tom! Over here." Internally asking herself if she was going crazy, she observed Riddle straightening his shoulders before turning towards her group.

"Riddle. Next week's meeting is still on, I presume?" Abraxas asked when they reached the other boy.

"Of course. Don't forget to bring your wand this time, Malfoy." Remembering the evening, the young Malfoy had lost his wand on the way to the meeting still made Hermione smile. Tom's incredulous face after he had told him, he the scion of one of the noblest wizarding houses couldn't find his wand, was just comedic gold. They'd spend the entire night searching for that damn thing.

"Hermione. I see Rosier finally got his wish?" Since their agreement to put the Basilisk to sleep, Tom had been surprisingly civil towards everyone.

"If with that you mean me indulging his delusion that I might fall for him someday, then yes." Their weekly meetings had undergone quite the transformation during the past months. With most of the founding members entering their fifth and sixth year, conversations had shifted from just discussing schoolwork and practising magic to political debates as well as their plans for after Hogwarts.

"I see," Tom answered, clearly not interested in continuing this conversation.

"Just a reminder that I'm still here. Hermione, you should be grateful that I still chose you after all the mean things you do to me all the time." Pushing himself between Riddle and herself, Evan regarded her with a mischievous grin.

"Feel free to move on Evan, I'll get over the loss." _Merlin, he's sixteen already. One year younger than me during the final battle. How did this all happen so fast_?

"Oy! That was harsh." Evan sulked, but Hermione was long immune to his kicked puppy look. Despite his courteous behaviour towards herself, Hermione still remembered the nasty boy from before. Sometimes the old Evan still resurfaced, especially when hanging out with the rest of the Knights. He enjoyed taunting Muggleborns a little too much and cared a little too less for anything outside of their tightly knit circle.

"I'm sure you'll get over it." Finally, the library came into view, and the group made their way inside. "I have to look for some scrolls, I'll join you guys in a second."

While the boys made their way towards their usual study corner, Hermione pulled out the short list she'd written in the morning. _Let's see, they should be just down this aisle_.

"Hermione?" Looking up from her crumpled paper, the girl in question turned around.

"Oh, hey Minny...can I help you?" Even though they were still dormmates, they hadn't really spoken with each other for a while now.

"No, not really." Seemingly unsure how to proceed, Minerva looked down at her hands. "I-"

"We-" Stopping mid-word, the two witches waited for the other one to finish first.

"Sorry, I just wanted..." Hermione felt horribly awkward. Despite her cruel words, she still considered Minerva her friend, but she didn't think the same went for the other girl. "Damn it, I just feel so awful. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I know I don't deserve it, but I miss you so much."

Hermione's breath hitched, "I've been acting so stupid and then it felt like it was too late to make amends and-"

"Minny." Hermione interrupted the rambling girl. "It's alright, I forgive you." Feeling as if a significant weight has been lifted from her shoulders, Hermione opened her arms. Pulling the other girl closer, Minerva stifled a small sob, her slim hands fiercely curling into Hermione's dark robes.

"I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you in the first place." Resting her head on Minerva's shoulder, Hermione nodded. "You really should've."

Her friend's muffled chuckle made Hermione feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Swallowing the tight knot forming in her throat, she remained still for a few more seconds before stepping out of their embrace. She really didn't have a lot of real friends in this time.

"All good?" Minerva pulled Hermione's hands in her own.

"All good." The two of them smiled at each other.

"I still have to get those scrolls-" Unsure how to proceed, Hermione held up her list.

"Oh- yes, of course." Minny stuttered.

"Yes. Well, see you at dinner?" It felt strange to talk to her friend again after so many months of Minerva giving her the cold shoulder.

"Yes, yes, of course, see you tonight." With that, her fellow Gryffindor friend hastily picked up the bag she'd dropped during their embrace and stepped around Hermione towards the exit.

"Alright. See you there." _Well, this wasn't awkward at all_. Torn between feeling elated and embarrassed, Hermione collected herself and continued her way towards the shelf she'd been searching for...

* * *

 **April 1943**

"You expect me to believe that your aunt, dainty Loreen Mulciber, really hexed your uncle and then left him?"

"I'm telling you. It was amazing." Hermione looked towards Minerva and Charlus, the two of them still looking seemingly unconvinced by her story. The trio enjoyed the first days of spring outside the castle, sitting on the grassy hills near to the great lake.

"Nah, I'm just not seeing it." Charlus continued,

"Come on, you've met her what – twice? How would you know what she can and cannot do?" Hermione argued while grabbing another sandwich from the tray the elves had prepared for them.

"I think she's telling the truth. I once read that the witches on the continent are much more temperamental." Minerva added,

"The Mulciber's are from Kent Minny." Charlus deadpanned as he too helped himself to another sandwich.

"The Lestrange's aren't though. And she married into the family."

"That doesn't even make sense."

Hermione watched her two bickering friends for a while, realising that this was the perfect opportunity to introduce the two to some modern values. _This is my chance_. She'd read a lot about American and European witches, having come to the depressing conclusion that they were much more liberated than their British counterparts. She blamed it on their ridiculous, antiquated class system that seems to transcend muggle and wizarding cultures.

"I'd prefer the term liberated Minny. Witches are much more liberated elsewhere." Interrupting her two companions, Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "For example, the Americans had two female Ministers of Magic since the twenties."

"The Americans also banned marriages between muggles and wizards. Not very progressive at all if you ask me." Rolling her eyes at Charlus' comment, Hermione continued.

"These are two completely separate issues. I was talking about how bad witches rights in this country are." Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Minerva.

"It's infuriating. Mother once told me that in the old families, it's even worse."

"Now you're just exaggerating. Hermione just told us that her aunt is staying with her family again. This would've been unheard of during our parents time." Earning himself a nasty glare from Minerva, Charlus shrugged her off.

"I really don't see what your problem is Minny, you're just as entitled to vote for our Ministry officials as I am."

Minerva scoffed, "yes, but I wouldn't be allowed to run for any office myself."

"You could still work in the Ministry?" It didn't seem like Charlus was getting her point, so Hermione thought of another example.

"It's not the same. You see, father might've named me primary heir, but the Ministry is still fighting his claim. They revoked the bill that got me those seats the second it was announced." Rodolphus had informed her of the Ministry's actions over the Christmas holidays. He'd been angry beyond words after receiving the letter from the Wizengamot declaring Hermione's claim void with the birth of her cousin after abolishing the obscure law he was basing her own on. He and Rabastan had a few heated discussions over the matter, but in the end, Rodolphus had promised her to fight the Ministry's order.

"Oh yes, I've read all about it in the Prophet a while ago. Rumours are that your cousin will receive your previous title as heir." Charlus began, "I mean if we're talking about fairness, it technically was unfair for you to take your cousins titles in the first place."

"I'm the oldest and the only child of the current head of the house. Technically that gives me the most legitimate claim, doesn't it?"

Charlus only hesitated for a second, "We've talked about this before. I see your point, but I still think it's not okay that a wizard would have to give up his rights in exchange as well."

"So if you and Dorea only have daughters in the future you'd be okay with them having no rights to your Potter fortunes and titles? You'd be willing to hand those over to some distant wizard cousin instead of your own children?" Hermione asked, satisfied with the torn look on her friend's face.

"I-" Biting his lips, Charlus attempted to find the right words.

"Honestly? You're right, I wouldn't. I've never really thought about this until now." _Now you're getting it_. Hermione thought to herself, curious what he'd say next.

"Merlin, this really isn't right. I'd leave them with nothing." Judging by his paling complexion, it seemed like he was taking the future of his imaginary daughters quite seriously all of a sudden.

"Do you see what we mean now? You will inherit a seat as well. You could really change things for the better in the future." Hermione observed the boy. She wasn't sure how far she could take it with her Slytherin friends regarding this issue, but they weren't the only influential people she knew. Tom might actually agree with her, but this didn't mean they'd all follow through and surrender their precious monopoly on power to their wives, daughters and other witches.

"I really didn't want to go into politics, but now... I don't know Hermione. I'll definitely not stay silent on this though." Minerva and Hermione exchanged a small smile, happy that their friend agreed that things had to change at some point. It made her strangely proud to belong to the generation that would change wizarding laws for the better. To be a driving force behind the movement of the sixties and seventies that gave witches the rights she'd taken for granted in the future...

* * *

 **June 1943**

"Ancient Runes again?" Nearly knocking over her inkpot, Hermione muttered a small curse.

O.W.L.s were fast approaching, and despite this being her second attempt already, Hermione had spent the past weeks locked up in the library, determined to do even better than the first time.

"Tom, how often do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me!" The tall Slytherin dared to quirk an eyebrow at her accusing glare.

"Your inability to notice me is not my fault, Hermione." Sitting down on the chair across from her, Tom pulled out his own coursework,

"Very funny. Could I take a look at your notes for this, my answer seems inconclusive." Pointing at his own Ancient Runes workbook, Hermione regarded him with a pleading look. The curriculum for this subject varied vastly from her original one, making one of her favourite schools of magic that much more challenging for the young witch.

"If you show me your History of Magic texts." The two readily exchanged notes before silently returning back to their studies. The hours ticked by, and once the last student had left, Hermione closed her books as well. "Already done Lestrange? My, I wish I was that confident in my abilities."

After that many hours of no talking, Riddles deep voice cut like a knife through the comfortable silence. Scoffing at his petty teasing, Hermione continued to pack her things, determined to ignore the boy.

"But then, you're taking two O.W.L.s less than me, so your workload must be little to nothing." _That's it_.

"Divination and Muggle Studies are not subjects worth pursuing. I'd rather spend my energy on useful topics." Tom looked up from his texts. The dark shadows under his eyes nearly matching her own. It felt strangely comforting to see the boy in such comparatively dishevelled state.

"Careful your bigoted upbringing you despise so much is shining through, Lestrange."

Hermione gasped at his accusation, "this has nothing to do with my upbringing. I just don't see why I should bother learning about Muggle culture." _Seeing as I grew up with it_. Was left unspoken and suddenly she realised how unfortunately worded her argument truly was.

"No- I mean-" Tom interrupted her ramblings, "Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Why bother studying the people that threaten our very existence - absolutely unnecessary."

"Come on, you know that's not what I'm thinking at all." She hissed irritated.

"On the contrary, I think that's exactly what you're thinking, Hermione. Otherwise, why'd you still be friends with people like Malfoy and Rosier?" Unable to think of a proper argument, Hermione closed her mouth again. "If it makes you happy to continue this illusion of grandeur be my guest, but someday this whole Saviour of the Muggle-borns won't work anymore."

Clutching her books closer to her chest, Hermione was rendered speechless by Riddles twisted words. _How does he always manage to make me look like the most horrible person_?

"Why do you always have to see the worst in people? Just because I believe some school subjects are less important than others doesn't make me a bad person. Just because I like to spend time with Abraxas and Evan doesn't make me some kind of pure-blood supremacist."

Putting one hand on her hip, Hermione watched Tom calmly putting his own things back into his back. Without sparing her so much as a glance, the boy walked past her, his shoulder gently brushing against hers.

"I wonder if you actually hear yourself talk Hermione. Tell me, why did you choose to join my Knights?" Coming to a halt a few feet behind her, Riddle waited for her answer.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione thought she could smell the faint remnants of the cologne he must've put on in the morning. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

She heard him shuffle closer, his hands suddenly grabbing Hermione by her upper arms. "Didn't you?" His voice was much too close. "Then regard this as my offer to leave. No strings attached, just stop coming to the meetings."

Drawing in a sharp breath, Hermione turned around. Finding herself nearly pressed into his firm chest, she lifted her chin in an effort to look him in the eyes. "What are you doing right now, Tom?"

He was acting more than a little strange. His hands wandered down her arms. They found her own cold ones, causing her to tense up instantly.

"You desperately tell yourself you're different from them, Rosier, Malfoy but deep down you know they're right. You surround yourself with charity cases, taking some sick kind of pleasure from playing the benevolent muggle advocate."

Hermione felt her legs grow weak as Tom leaned down, his face mere inches away from her face. "But when the day turns to night you drop the act, gallivanting around with the upper echelons of pure-blood society, Watching them terrorise Muggles and Muggle-borns from the sidelines." His eyes had taken on a feverish glint.

Hermione tried to pull away from him, but his grip on her hands only tightened. "Let go of me this instant, Tom." But the boy just licked his lips, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on the back of her hands.

"We're both liars Hermione Lestrange. And that's why you'll not leave me. I'm the only one who can keep up with your games."

His hands were suddenly in her hair. Pulling her closer, his lips ghosted over her cheek, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. "Don't worry, this will be our little secret. You'll be a great asset to me in the future."

Before she could comprehend what Tom had just said, he let go of her and swiftly made his way towards the exit of the library. "See you later, Lestrange."

Hermione staggered a few steps back, her shoulders painfully colliding with one of the tall bookshelves behind her. Wincing at the sudden pain running down her spine, she sank towards the floor. _What the hell_.

Feeling the panic rising in her chest, she curled into herself, her knees pressed against her chest and her chin resting between her crossed arms. _He's mad. Completely and utterly unhinged_. She'd thought that the boy had changed. It was so hard to differentiate between his perfectly crafted mask and whatever the real Tom was. He'd seemed so reasonable the past few months, that she'd nearly forgotten that Voldemort had never been anything close to normal. He'd been a complete sociopath that manipulated people and only cared for his own goals.

Hermione might be able to steer him away from his most manic tendencies, but this didn't mean that he was suddenly a functioning human being. He only saw the world from his perspective and judged people accordingly. He saw Hermione the way he did because, in his mind, that was how people functioned.

 _It doesn't matter what I tell him_. Tom Riddle would always think he was in the right so no matter how twisted his opinion on people might be, he'd never change it even if they told him so. He was always right, so if he thought Hermione was playing just the same mind-games as he did with people, then that was it.

"Why must he be so difficult?" She whispered to herself, contemplating how to use Tom's opinion of herself to her advantage. Would he agree to her proposals in the future more easily because he thought she was just as wicked as he probably presumed most of his future death eaters to be? Would he indulge her because, in his mind, every one of them was just as screwed up as himself?

This was getting far too complicated. _Why can't he just be a functioning human being? How do you handle someone like him properly_? Hermione closed her eyes, the thought that she'd have to help this boy becoming the next Minister of Magic, making her feel faint. _Why can't anything ever be simple with Tom Riddle_?

* * *

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_**


	13. 6th Year - Part I

**June 1943**

It was their last weekend before the holidays. Hermione was eager to get some time to research the matter of their unexpected time travel debacle again, not yet ready to give up on her quest to find a way back home.

Tom's group of hormone-driven pureblood friends was also increasingly hard to deal with. She looked forward to getting some time away from their weekly gatherings. Hermione knew that boys around that age were never of much use but give an emotionally compromised young man a wand, and suddenly things managed to get worse.

Stifling a yawn, she put on her airy summer robes, ready to get this day over with. She'd promised Evan to accompany him to Hogsmeade, but had she known that it would end with him lurking in front of her common room, every day before the weekend she'd just called the whole thing off.

"That boy sure is a menace. He's waiting for you again." Marigold Brown stuck her head into the dorm room, her eyes instantly finding Hermione's.

"Sorry, I'll tell him again to wait somewhere else." Hastily packing her small handbag, she made her way past the older girl.

"See that you do - otherwise we might just as well invite him inside." Despite Slytherins not nearly having as bad of a reputation as they did in her time, house rivalries were still very much a thing. The captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team had made that quite clear during his incoherent lecture about letting a snake into the lion's den.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, ready to leave?"

At her question Evan turned around, flashing her a warm smile before taking her hand and looping her arm around his own. "Hermione Lestrange is that rouge I'm spotting on your cheeks?"

Huffing, she unconsciously let her fingers wander over her face. "It was Minny's idea. Does it look bad?"

Scowling, her friend shook his head. "You look beautiful, love." Hermione felt the butterflies in her stomach, returning in full force. That boy just looked so damn sincere.

The war had taken so much from her, that at times she hadn't even recognised the pale girl staring back at her from the tarnished mirror in some rundown bathroom at Grimmauld Place. Regardless of how much she'd lost when she woke up in this time – Here she wasn't Hermione of the golden Trio or Hermione, the war hero. Here she was just another Hogwarts student, enjoying the best years of her life again.

"How about we get some sweets from Honeydukes and sit down by the lake?" Evan asked.

"Sure, I just need to get something for my aunt real quick, it's her birthday in a few days." Even though Loreen currently didn't live with them, Hermione still didn't want to come across as rude.

"Of course, got anything special in mind?"...

After finishing their errands, the two of them made their way back towards the lake. The burning afternoon sun had put a damper on Hermione's mood.

"Wait here for just a second, will you?" Evan suddenly said, clearly taking notice of her poorly concealed displeasure.

"Wait, where are you going?" She called after him but didn't receive an answer. Grumbling she sat down on one of the benches nearby, the trees offering little protection from the heat.

After a few minutes, she saw him rushing around the corner, his face flushed from running. "What was that all about?" Her gaze fell on the thing in his hands. _Oh, no_. She'd seen Loreen, and other witches carry similar items, always making her feel like she was trapped in some kind of period drama.

"So that you won't have to worry about getting a tan," Evan exclaimed excitedly, clearly not interpreting Hermione's incredulous stare right.

"You got me a parasol?" Eying the frilly white object, Hermione reluctantly took it from his outstretched hand.

"I noticed that you were getting quite irritated, so I thought maybe you just forgot your own today."

Grimacing she slowly opened the thing, relieved to see that it had only minimal lacing done on the rim. "Evan, have you ever seen me walking around with one of those things?"

"Well, no, but it's not like you go outside that much anyways. You spend most of the weekends holed up in the library with Riddle." At his accusing tone, Hermione looked up.

"It's called studying. You should try it sometime." Before the boy could come up with a reply, she continued. "Anyways, I feel silly walking around with something like that, let's return it."

"You don't like it?" At his severe expression, Hermione did a double-take.

"What? No, I just – I'm just not a fan of parasols." _Smooth. Very smooth Hermione_.

"Oh, I see." He looked like a kicked puppy.

"I'm sorry, ignore what I just said, I'll keep it." Hermione nimbly opened the damn thing, noticing how well it went with her robes. If she didn't know any better, it seemed like Evan had put a lot of thought into selecting one that'd suit her. She felt awful.

"Are you sure? We can return it if you don't want it." Vehemently shaking her head, Hermione once again hooked her free hand under his arm and proceeded to pull her sulking friend towards their destination.

She had to grudgingly admit that the shade the parasol provided felt heavenly. She was pretty certain it had been enhanced with magic, the handle staying cold no matter how long she held on to it. Once they finally arrived, Hermione immediately transfigured her fresh handkerchief into a small blanket they could sit on. The lake provided some much needed fresh air, the water cooling the surrounding area significantly.

"Chocolate?" Evan held out the small bag of candy they've gotten.

"Thanks." Popping one of the pralines into her mouth, Hermione leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

"This is much better. Should've just spent the day here." Laughing, Evan joined her, and together they turned to silently watch the clouds for a few minutes.

After a while, Hermione's eyes involuntary wandered towards Evan. It blew her mind that the young man next to her was the same sneering boy she'd met during her first year.

"Thanks for spending the day with me, Mione." He spoke up, his eyes not leaving the blue sky above them.

Hermione admired his golden locks, a small sting of jealousy overcoming her. _Our children would have the most ridiculous hair._ Choking on her sudden train of thoughts, Hermione felt her chest constrict at the image of a smiling Evan waiting for her with a curly-haired child in his arms. _Where did this come from_? Mentally collecting herself, she closed her eyes for a second. _I don't even like children_.

"No, thank you. I had a great time." She eventually answered, properly weirded out by her fantasies.

"So, any chance we could do this again next semester?" He asked cheekily, finally looking back at her. _He's so goddamn pretty. Merlin, help me_. Hermione had never had a crush as bad as she had on Evan. He was the single most annoying person in her life, only slightly better than Tom but every time he looked at her, the rational voice in her mind telling her that this man would one day kill innocent witches and wizards, went quiet.

"Let's see about that. You know I'm not interested in any courtships at the moment."

Evan sighed. "Will you ever tell me?"

She looked at him questioningly. "Tell you what?"

"What it is that you want Hermione?"

Furrowing her brows, Hermione sat up again, "What are you talking about?"

Leaning on his hand, the other boy regarded her with an unreadable expression. "You know that I like you. You've known for a long time. You also know that no matter how much you hate it, that respectable witches get married. So why. Why are you rejecting me?"

He might as well have slapped her. Recoiling from the boy Hermione bit her lips. "So, I'm only a respectable witch in your eyes if I marry you, Evan?" She hated herself for tearing up.

"I respect you no matter what you do, but I care enough about you to be worried about what others might think!" He argued, causing Hermione to blindly grab the first thing she got a hold of and throw it at the boy in a very Lestrange-esque fashion.

"What do I care, what other people think of me?"

"Continuing the family line is not a trivial thing, Hermione." Evan hissed, brushing the left-over candy from his trouser which Hermione had so gracefully thrown at him. "A child born out of wedlock can mean the end of entire houses."

Rolling her eyes at his exaggeration, Hermione stood up. "Quit being so dramatic. We're not in the Middle Ages anymore."

"No, but our laws are!" Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Even if we don't like it, the Ministry is still ruled by people well into their hundreds. Our minister is One-hundred-and-nine years old, do you really expect these people to share your modern values?" At a loss for words, Hermione tried to comprehend her friend's words. "Believe me if I could, I'd change the laws in a heartbeat. You'd make a better Wizengamot member than any of us, but this can only happen if we play by the rules until we take over."

Pulling himself up, Evan followed after her. "Why-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he interrupted her. "If you marry me I'd have two seats, Mione. Imagine the possibilities."

"You would have two seats?" She felt numb inside.

"No, I mean us. We'd have two seats, love. The Ministry will not have a witch sitting in the Gamot, but I could speak for you." Feeling utterly disgusted by his words, Hermione recognised that he probably had her best interest in mind, but that wasn't an excuse for how he was treating her.

"I'm not some kind of bargaining chip to be used by whoever wins my precious heart. I have as much as a right to sit on these chairs as you or Abraxas." She narrowed her eyes at Evan. "And I will get my seat no matter the cost Evan. Petty Politics will not stop me." ...

Flinching at her cold voice, Evan caught another glimpse of what was lurking behind Hermione's amber eyes. He'd seen her perfectly crafted shell crack once before when he had found her completely still, sitting next to Myrtle Warren's cold body. It had been a jarring sight. She hadn't even cried until he'd pulled her away. He knew that Hermione was not as alright as she always pretended to be.

He'd heard his father talk about how most of the Lestranges were loyal Grindelwald supporters. Evan wasn't blind. He knew her father and uncle were probably much worse than his father could ever be. No average person would wear heavily warded leather robes in their own home.

"I shall take my leave then." He felt something break inside of him as he watched the girl he loved with all of his heart walk away from him. It had taken Evan a few years to realise that his constant teasing and flirting had gone from harmless banter to first infuriation and after fourth-year genuine affection for the curious Lestrange girl from the continent.

"I'm such an idiot." Massaging his forehead in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache that was worsening by the second, he also made his way back towards his common room. Hermione's hurt eyes, haunting him even in his dreams that night...

* * *

"Bastards! All of them." Hauling another spell at the innocent wall in front of her, Hermione continued to curse every wizard she could think of. "Chauvinistic, condescending prick!" The smirking image of Avery beating her in their first duel sent her into another fit.

"Is this a bad time?" Whirling around Hermione spotted Riddle calmly watching her from the door. His face devoid of any emotion.

"Usually the use of sarcasm is accompanied by an unbearably irritating expression on one's face", he didn't even try to reciprocate her smirk.

 _Great_. "Everything alright, Tom?" She really didn't have enough patience left to deal with him right now.

"Not particularly. Rosier seemed quite distraught, and judging by the state of this room, I figure this has something to do with you?" He still hadn't even blinked.

"It's nothing. Sometimes people fight, that's normal." She didn't even believe her words.

"Is that so?" His empty eyes were starting to weird her out.

"Seriously, is something wrong? Did I do something?" Pursuing his lips, Tom looked at her for a few seconds before his face seemed to morph into a completely different person, his charming smile firmly back in place. It was the most unnerving thing she'd ever seen.

"Do you know how many muscles it takes to form a simple smile? It gets exhausting."

Hermione took a step back. "How did you even find me?" She asked, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"Tracking spell."

Spluttering, she immediately drew her wand. "What the hell, Tom? How, when?"

The boy didn't even try to explain himself. "Don't feel too special; all of my knights have one on them. I'm working on a more permanent solution at the moment. Maybe a tattoo of some sorts." Flabbergasted she continued to gape at him, torn between throwing every hex she knew at the boy and running diagnostic spells over her body to search for more hidden surprises.

"And you couldn't have told me this small detail sooner?" He just raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "Fine. Fine. I don't care. This day is already bad enough. What do you want?" He wouldn't have come all the way from the dungeons if he didn't want something from her.

Nodding his head once, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him in the process. "You will help me with something very important."

Internally scowling at his demanding tone, she sat down across from Tom. "What is it?"

He leaned forward, his cold hand encasing her own. "Right", waiting for a few seconds she wondered what he would do next.

He shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving her own. Against her better judgement, his sudden proximity caused her breath to quicken. "Tom?" Her question seemed to pull him from whatever was holding him back, and suddenly, his face was right in front of hers. His other free hand grabbing the back of her neck, he pulled her towards him so quick that she didn't even register his lips on her own at first.

With her eyes wide open, she struggled to free herself from his bruising grip, his mouth seemingly leaving a burning trail on her own chapped lips. Feeling like she was running out of breath, she doubled her efforts, aimlessly reaching for her wand. Realising that he wouldn't let her go that easily, Hermione resorted to a good old muggle tactic and bit down hard. Hissing the older boy finally pulled away, a few drops of crimson staining his swollen lips.

"Are you crazy?!" Putting as much distance between herself and the panting Slytherin, she continued to fumble for her wand. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with you Riddle?" Wiping her lips, she waited for him to answer her.

"I must say, I cannot understand what the others find so appealing about this whole ordeal." Seemingly not bothered by the blood pooling around the corners of his mouth Tom regarded her thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?" Her mind was on fire, and she didn't know how much longer she could contain the burning fury that was bubbling up her chest. _He kissed me. Tom Riddle kissed me_. Feeling like she might get sick, Hermione pressed her tingling lips into a thin line.

"Walburga Black fancies me."

Completely thrown out of the loop, Hermione said the first thing that came to her mind. "Most witches at Hogwarts fancy you."

He looked up at her, his grey eyes analysing every move she made. "But you don't?"

This entire situation made her feel like there were thousands upon thousands of spiders crawling beneath her skin. "No. Merlin, I don't."

He inclined his head. "Why?" _Why_?

Massaging her temples in an attempt to find the purpose of their conversation, Hermione sighed. "Tom. What is the meaning of all this? You cannot just walk in here and do- do what you just did."

The boy inclined his head. "As I said, you'll help me."

"Help you with what?" She asked exasperated.

"A witch from a good family would help me secure my position in your circles." Hermione was one-hundred-and-ten per cent sure that Tom Riddle never had a wife or even a girlfriend in his entire life.

"I'm sorry am I getting this right? You want to...get married?" It felt ridiculous to even think about Voldemort as a married man.

"You'd have been an excellent choice if not for your potential, you'd be wasted as a trophy wife."

 _Are we really having this conversation right now? Did I somehow slip on the stairs and died_? "Then why did you just kiss me now?"

"To see what all the fuss was about. I clearly cannot woo a witch without having any experience regarding that matter." _Merlin, I, Hermione Granger, was Voldemorts first kiss_. Hermione felt an uncomfortable weight settling in her stomach.

"I think it's rather fitting that you'll always be my first, Lestrange. The first other person with magic I met, the first to teach me about this world."

Ferociously shaking her head, Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Telling you about the sacred twenty-eight and snogging in an abandoned classroom are two completely different things, Tom."

Deciding that any appeals to his morals would only be met with confusion at best and anger at worst, she took a different approach.

"I- I'm flattered that you'd choose me for this important task, but I cannot risk my reputation as an honourable witch so easily." Hermione could barely contain the disdain in her voice.

Tom seemed to consider her words, his jaw moving slowly while he was thinking. It was genuinely unfair how attractive he was. "Since when does Hermione Lestrange care for such trivial things as her hypocritical virtue?"

She knew he wouldn't buy her explanation that easily. "Regardless of my opinion on this backwards custom, I still think affection should only be shared between two people who cherish each other."

Tom pursed his lips. "I see." _Do you though_?

"So does that mean you don't cherish me? Tell me, would you say the same if it was Rosier sitting here instead of me?" His calculating eyes turned to liquid silver as he watched her through his dark lashes.

"I don't see how Evan has anything to do with this." She spoke carefully.

"He's crucial to my cause. As long as you're standing behind me, he'll do the same."

"What are you trying to say, Tom?"

"It would do you good to marry him." Hearing Tom say the same thing as Evan had just a few hours beforehand made her previously forgotten anger at the boy return in full force.

"So first you kiss me and when I don't cooperate you tell me to marry one of your future henchmen? Screw you, Riddle." Why was everyone telling her how to live her life today?

"Language, Lestrange. It would benefit you greatly to do so, and you know that." Closing her eyes, she shook her head.

"If you are so keen on marrying me off, who did you set your eyes on then?"

"Walburga Black." _Morgana help us all_. "She's currently betrothed to her cousin but once I reclaim my rightful title as the heir of Slytherin and the last scion of the house Gaunt her parents will surely be open for discussion." So, he had found out about his pureblood relatives.

Hermione wasn't even sure what to feel at this point. That woman was the mother of Sirius. She felt sick at the thought of Tom Riddle becoming his dad in some warped version of their new future.

"I've found my real father. He's wealthy enough to be of use to me. After the summer I'll return as Tom Gaunt."

Every possible alarm bell in her body went off. Hermione knew what he was planning to do, and he knew that she knew. She could see it in the way he was looking at her. "Are you sure this is the best way to deal with this?"

He shrugged. "If someone finds out, even all your money and titles won't help you." She knew she was fighting a lost battle.

"My disgraceful uncle will be held responsible for it. I'm telling you in case something goes wrong." Putting his chin in his folded hands, he watched her reaction. "My plan is perfect, but people aren't so as my failsafe you'll see that everyone thinks I was with your family this summer."

The guilt she felt at that moment lay heavily on her shoulders. He was making her an accomplice in the murder of an innocent family. Carefully locking that part of her that was kicking and screaming at the notion of helping Tom back into the most bottomless pits of her mind, she nodded.

"Good girl." His voice sent shivers down her spine. Hermione couldn't wrap her head around the enigma that was Tom Riddle. As a boy, he had seemed so much more approachable but was that only because of his innocent face? His ability to mirror the people around him, always telling them what they wanted to hear, showing them what they wanted to see?

"Just tell me one thing, Tom." He indulged her. "What do you want?" The echoes of her previous conversation with Evan, ghosting through her mind as she looked him dead in the eyes.

Silence followed for a few minutes, but Hermione didn't back down. She needed to know exactly who she was pledging her loyalty- her last remaining innocence to. Voldemort had been a madman, his soul damaged beyond repair. But this wasn't Voldemort sitting across from her. This was a young, rational man who'd murder his last remaining family and let the rest rot in Azkaban only to get up the next day as if nothing was wrong.

"What I deserve." His answer pulled her from her spiralling thoughts.

"What you deserve?" She asked tentatively.

"My answer is already more than what you deserve Lestrange, so let's leave it at that." His dismissive tone should have made her livid, but all Hermione could focus on was the way his tongue moved past his lips to pick up the last crimson reminders of their kiss. Noticing her blatant stare, his mouth curled into a predatory smile.

"Want a taste?" His thumb moved to the corners of his mouth before finding her lips, painting them red with the blood she'd drawn.

Sucking in a breath, Hermione attempted to regain control of her raging emotions, most of which she'd rather not explore any further.

The purpose of the gesture became glaringly apparent to her, the second Tom fixated his gaze on his bloody handy work. _I'm so screwed_.

"In the end, we both know who you truly belong to." Balking at the coppery taste on her lips, she pulled away from the older Slytherin. Hastily grabbing her stuff, she fled from the room before things could get any worse.

"Don't forget to tell everyone I'm staying with you over the holidays." He called after her, his smug voice echoing in her mind even after she had thrown herself under the heavy covers of her four-poster bed.

* * *

 **June 1943**

Lestrange manor was unnervingly quiet upon her return. It was the first time, Rabastan hadn't come to pick her up, instead sending a house-elf to collect his niece. It was the first of many signs that something was very wrong with the younger Lestrange brother.

"More wine you incompetent creature." Watching her uncle kick one of their elves under the table, Hermione felt her appetite fade at the sight of the quivering creature.

"Rabastan!"

The upset man whirled around. "Don't you fucking dare to question me in my own house, girl."

Hermione scowled at his rude words, dropping her cutlery carelessly onto her empty plate in the process. "It's not the elves' fault that Loreen still hasn't returned."

"She shouldn't have left in the first place!" Mentally rolling her eyes, she contemplated how much further she could take it before he completely snapped. Deciding that she'd rather not deal with more drama for the rest of the holidays she gave in.

"I'm sorry Rabastan, the last months must've been hard for you." She caught the approving nod of her father just as her uncle spoke up again.

"She didn't have any right to take my children from me." _Children_?

"Rabastan, is Loreen pregnant again?" She'd just gotten used to the thought of having one cousin, she didn't know if she was able to handle a second child at the manor.

Taking a big sip from his wine, her uncle nodded solemnly. "We wanted to tell you this week. She's around five months along now." Rodolphus suddenly looked just as furious as his brother much to Hermione's confusion.

"She is with child again?" He asked incredulously,

"I'm sorry Rod, I'm a disgrace to this family." _What the hell is he talking about_? Her confusion must've been apparent because her father sighed deeply.

"Corvus oculum corvi non eruit." She'd had endured enough lessons on the history of the house Lestrange to recognise the motto of their family.

"A crow will not pull out the eye of another crow." She repeated, unsure what he was insinuating.

"A Lestrange will always put another Lestrange first. Loreen betrayed that very notion, and Rabastan let her. You cannot even begin to imagine how insulting and dishonourable her actions were." She thought it was little dramatic to go as far as calling her temporary escape from her murderous husband dishonourable beyond comprehension but knew better than to outright question the two brothers.

"Edwin is a Lestrange. He and every other of my brother's children should be with us, not the Mulcibers, it's a grave insult."

Grimacing at his harsh words, Hermione tried to come up with an appropriate response. "I think we should give her some time to come to terms with all of this. It's the least you could do after that whole Grindelwald fiasco."

"She shouldn't have run back to her parents," Rabastan argued.

"I'm not an expert, but exposing a young pregnant woman to carnage and death and then telling her to suck it up, is probably not the smartest move."

Her uncle's baleful glare was enough to tell her she'd overstepped her boundaries. "Instead of trying to defend my wife, why don't you focus on your own role? Heiress Lestrange, you don't deserve my son's title."

Now it was Rodolphus turn to scowl at his brother. "Rab, we've talked about this." Rodolphus began, "If we speak blood rights, Hermione is more Lestrange than any of your children will ever be."

The thought of Rodolphus' blood flowing through her veins was still revolting to Hermione. "And isn't it just great that my niece is also technically my sister, dear brother?"

"It's most certainly not the first time, this has been done. Our great-grandfather was a Mudblood as well. He took his wife's blood when they couldn't find a suitable match for her." Curling her lips, Hermione finally understood why there were close to no squibs in the long history of her new family.

Unlike the other old houses who intermarried for generations, resulting in less and less diversity in the gene pool, the Lestranges had simply transferred their ancient magic to non-purebloods, making them pure in their eyes. Hermione didn't know how exactly magic was tied to her genes, but she was damn sure that no blood ritual could completely replace someone's genetic make-up. Not that these people were aware of any of that. Even in her time, she hadn't met a wizard with a fundamental understanding of human biology.

"Don't worry uncle, I'll do my utmost best to bring honour to this house." She said sarcastically.

"It's ironic, really. All I see when I look at you is my mother." His offhand comment made Hermione angry.

"Just because my hair is a little darker and my skin a bit lighter, doesn't mean I'm not myself anymore." This somehow seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, because Rodolphus face turned sour.

"And who is it that you are my dear daughter?"

"I-" The answer to his question should've been easy, but something made her hesitate. _Do I really still have the right to call myself Hermione Granger_? Her future self never would've helped someone like the Lestranges.

Hermione the muggleborn would not have joined a group of bigoted blood supremacist even if her life depended on it. "Regardless of what your magic did to me, I still had parents who loved me dearly. I experienced the deep-rooted hatred toward muggleborns and saw first-hand what you people do to the ones you consider to be lesser."

Her uncle and father regarded her with equally displeased expressions. "Hermione Lestrange is the product of dark magic and violence. She isn't and never will be real."

"Over five years have passed, and you still cling to that worthless old life of yours. Despicable." Rabastan sneered.

"I had to leave everything behind. You two still have each other at least." Shea argued bitterly.

"I'm your father, Hermione. My brother and I have given you everything, a name, titles – Merlin, the entire house once I'm stepping down."

Rodolphus clearly didn't think her previous life was worth living at all.

Pushing her plates away, she folded her hands and furrowed her brows. "I've never asked for any of that. Is it really so hard to believe that I was happy before the war broke out?"

"Here, you have the chance to truly make a difference. You should thank me for not killing you."

At that, she couldn't help but bark out a sharp laugh. "Oh, but you did. Remember? We're only here because you murdered a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl."

"Enough." Banging his flat palm against the table, her father abruptly stood. "I'll not be disrespected like that under my own roof. Until you learn to be grateful, you'll stay in your rooms."

"No! I'm nearly sixteen, you cannot treat me like a child anymore." She argued back.

"Hermione. Out." Drawing in a sharp breath, she shook her head.

"Why? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Winny!" Heading her master's call, the small elf appeared next to her. "Bring her to rooms. Do not let her out until I tell you so."

Flinching away from the elf's bony hands, Hermione put her hands on her hips defiantly. "You know what. I hope Loreen never returns to this cursed house. I'm glad that she managed to get away from you people!"

"Ungrateful child." She heard Rabastan sneer, just before Winny managed to get a hold of her...

* * *

 **August 1943**

Two weeks had passed since her involuntary confinement to her rooms. Unable to stand the isolation a moment longer, Hermione formulated a plan to leave that dreadful place.

"Please Winny, please deliver this letter to Loreen." For three days she had pleaded with the elf. All she had to do, was to tell Loreen to re-open the floo-line to her Kent estate so that she could escape through her own fireplace.

The woman still had access to Lestrange manor, so all it took was the removal of the protection runes on her side.

"Master will be furious with Missy. Winny cannot allow that." Hermione closed her eyes for a second to keep herself from snapping at her worried friend.

"I'm losing my mind in here. They had no right to lock me up in the first place." Winny watched her distressed Mistress. It was clear as day that Hermione had reached her limit. The two brothers were out on business for the remainder of the day, so this was probably her last chance to slip away unnoticed for a while.

"Missy has to promise Winny that she'll bring Mistress Loreen back."

Hermione felt awful, lying to her elf, but this was her only shot at escaping from the manor. Winny wouldn't help her if she'd told her she didn't intend to return for a long time. Better to let her believe she was trying to help her uncle.

"I promise. I'll be gone for a few hours tops." Finally, the elf seemed to have been convinced, and she watched Winny disappear with a soft plop. _I have to hurry_. Pulling out her already packed suitcase from under her bed, Hermione cast a simple shrinking charm on her luggage, slipping it into her robe's pocket.

Next, she tore out a paper from her notebook and scribbled down a short message to Rodolphus, telling him that she'd stay with Loreen for a while. She didn't want him to think Winny had anything to do with her disappearance, so she made up a story about how Loreen had contacted her first when she was still at Hogwarts.

Just as she put her feather down, the fireplace roared to life, the green flames tinting the room in an unnatural emerald hue, similar to what she imagined the Slytherin dungeons looked like.

"Winny has delivered the letter, Mistress Loreen urges Missy to hurry." Excited, she rushed towards the fireplace, regarding her loyal elf with a final nod.

"See you later, Winny!" The fire engulfed her body the second she stepped into the crackling flames. In a heartbeat, her room was gone. When she opened her eyes again, she stumbled into another dimly lit room.

Hermione carefully took another step forward, cold dread settling in her stomach when she realised where she'd been dropped off at. _No, no, no_. The familiar coat of arms above the fireplace seemed to mock her. The raven's beady eyes situated atop the golden letters of her family name following her every move.

"How?" Rushing towards the doors, she pulled with all her might, but the heavy wood didn't budge. "Alohomora." Her spell pearled off the lock like water on oil.

Her heart beat uncomfortably loud against her heaving chest when she realised how screwed she was. _He knew_. Rodolphus had put the entire manor on lockdown, probably expecting her to try to make a run for it.

Taking in the familiar surroundings, she slowly sunk towards the carpeted floor. She was stuck in Rodolphus' study. There was no floo-powder she could use to return to her rooms, and by now, he had probably felt the wards activating to keep her from leaving. _Sneaky bastard_. Anger mixed with her growing fear, causing her cheeks to grow hot.

Deciding that she didn't want him to find her in such a dishevelled state, she pulled herself up and made her way towards the chair in front of his desk. Taking her shrunken suitcase from her pocket, she returned it to its original size and set it down next to her. _No use in pretending. He'd never believe me anyway_...

* * *

"And therefore, I'll return when you promise me to see us as equals..." His deep voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife, causing her to flinch violently despite her efforts to keep her calm. She hadn't even heard him arrive.

"Truly a moving letter, Hermione. I'm a changed man." Scowling, she waited for her father to sit down across from her. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her distressed expression.

"But I have to thank you for getting Loreen to re-open the line. Rabastan is with her at this very moment." He looked at her, his handsome features twisted into sinister glee.

Her breath hitched, aware that she'd doomed her young aunt. Rabastan wouldn't leave without her. _What have I done_?

"Now, what do you have to say in your defence?"

"I haven't seen the sun in two weeks, you didn't even allow me to owl, my friends. You have no right to treat me like that."

The warm candlelight in the dimly lit room did nothing to soften her father's harsh features. "So, you're already spoiled rotten enough to have forgotten what a true punishment feels like?" Biting the inner corners of her cheeks, she averted her eyes.

"A couple of weeks in your very accommodating rooms and you're ready to run away?" Pouring himself a generous glass of fire whiskey, Rodolphus continued. "Very mature of you indeed, Hermione."

Sinking further back into her chair, Hermione failed miserably to hold back her angry tears. "You're making it sound like I'm the one in the wrong."

"Aren't you?" Cocking his head, he watched her like a hawk.

"No! I did nothing to deserve this kind of treatment." She hissed,

"It's not your place to question me, Hermione. Why do you keep insisting on defying me?"

Throwing herself back into her chair, Hermione sighed loudly. "Why do you insist on treating me like a five-year-old?"

"Sarcasm is unbecoming for a witch."

Hermione ground her teeth at his condescending remark. "I don't give a flying f-"

"Hermione." Her father interrupted her before she could finish her crude remark.

"What?" They glared at each other for a few seconds.

"No matter how much you wish to be a grown-up, your actions are still that of a reckless child, so, for now, I'll treat you like one." He spoke sternly with a resigned expression that made her feel even more patronised.

Was this truly how he saw her? A petulant child? It made her furious. "I hate you, Rodolphus. I hate how you treat me, how you expect me to take this all in a stride and be okay with some random death eaters playing house."

His glass whizzed past her, shattering upon hitting the wall behind her. He really seemed to have a problem with throwing things at her.

"When will it get in your thick head that Hermione Granger is no more? She was purged from your filthy blood the night I made you a Lestrange."

"Merlin, why do you have to be such a bastard?" She yelled back, not caring for the consequences of her words. She was annoyed. It felt as if everyone but herself was allowed to make decisions about her life. Was it really that childish of her to want to be treated like her own person?

When was the last time she was truly free? How long had it been since she could simply leave the house and have fun with her friends without an ulterior motive? "I just want you to acknowledge that I'm my own person. Everyone I ever cared for is not here anymore." Swallowing back bitter tears, she tried to push the memory of her parent's empty eyes after erasing every memory of their daughter from their minds, back.

"It doesn't matter what you want, Hermione. You're a Lestrange first and a person second." Rodolphus drawled, unaffected by her distress.

Her silent tears turning into full-blown sobs she hid her face in her hands. "I just want my mum," Strong arms pulled her into a comforting embrace. Grabbing the stiff fabric of Rodolphus' robes, she threw herself into his broad chest.

"Hermione, look at me." The sniffling girl shook her head. She wasn't ready to acknowledge who she was seeking comfort from just yet. Two weeks of total isolation had taken a toll on her emotional wellbeing. She hated being alone. The memories of all the horrible things that had happened to her over the years, taking over every waking moment of silence.

"What you did today was very irresponsible," Rodolphus spoke calmly, seemingly not bothered by the emotional girl clinging to his person.

"Winny." With her cheek firmly pressed to his chest, his deep voice rang comfortingly through her body. It was genuinely unnerving how much the familiar scent of his cologne and that unique note that also permeated the entire manor calmed her nerves.

"Master has called for- Missy Hermione!" Upon seeing her distraught Mistress, the little elf took a few tentative steps towards the pair.

"You've disappointed me, Winny. Now, look what you did." Hermione stifled another sob, turning her head towards her house elf.

"Winny is so sorry to cause Missy such distress. Winny only wanted to help." The elf whimpered.

Pressing his daughter firmly to his chest, Rodolphus leaned his chin on her head while simultaneously drawing his wand, "Observe Hermione, this is entirely your fault." Realising what he was about to do, Hermione could only watch in frozen horror as a familiar green light shot from his wand.

"Avada Kedavra." The curse hit Winny square in the chest. Her elf's eyes turning glassy, and before Hermione could register what had just happened, her loyal elf's body hit the ground.

"No!" Wrestling herself out of Rodolphus' arms she fell to her knees next to the small body on the floor. "Winny? No, please, not again." The tearful gaze of another beloved elf ghosted through her mind. Her chest burned, the familiar feeling of a lifeless body in her arms, nearly sending her into a frenzy.

Barely able to form a sentence, her eyes found her father's own. "How could you?"

He regarded her with a sombre expression for what felt like an eternity. "Let this be a lesson."

Still shell-shocked she unconsciously cradled the cold body of her beloved elf closer to her, unwilling to accept what had just happened.

"You- You killed her." The cruelty of his actions took her breath away. It was unfathomable to her how a person could just do something so horrible without batting an eyelash.

"It's just an elf Hermione. I warned you about what would happen if you continued to insult me." He was so calm. He had just killed a living being and yet he still stood in front of her as if nothing was wrong. Black spots danced across her vision. It felt as if her surroundings were closing in on her.

"I-" She couldn't breathe.

"Until you leave for Hogwarts, you're forbidden from leaving your rooms." Keeping her eyes shut until her muscles cramped, Hermione refused to let go of her elf. She heard Rodolphus sigh and felt herself being pulled up.

Uncaringly tearing the small body from her stiff arms, he tossed the limp corpse back to the floor, the sound of flesh hitting the solid ground nearly making her throw up on the spot. "Out with you." He steered her towards the door where he pushed her not too gently into the dark corridor.

"We'll continue this discussion in a few days when you've calmed down." With that, he closed his doors, expecting the distressed young witch to return to her room on her own. Staring blankly at the heavy doors until she couldn't feel her feet anymore, Hermione turned on her heels and dragged herself back to her chambers.

She thought she might've heard Loreen angrily cursing Rabastan, but all she could think of was Winny's still form back in Rodolphus' study. Throwing herself face down onto her bed, she grabbed the nearest pillow and continued to mourn yet another friend she couldn't save.

The massive doors closed with a resolute bang behind her, the magical locks slowly clicking into place.

* * *

 **So sorry - this suddenly took a very dark turn...Well... I wonder how many of you guessed what would happen to Winny when you first started reading this ff. Thanks for all the reviews! xoxo**


	14. 6th Year - Part II

**December 1943**

It was their last meeting before the holidays. Together with the rest of Tom's circle of mostly questionable friends, Hermione sat in front of the crackling fireplace at the far back of the abandoned study room.

"And I tell you that you're wrong!" Avery exclaimed with red-stained cheeks, making him look much more appealing than his usual pale, sneering self. "Mudbloods are in no position to demand anything from us, they're the ones intruding on us, not the other way around." His awful character quickly destroying that notion again.

"Magic is magic, no matter where it comes from. Without muggle-borns, there wouldn't be enough people left to sustain the population." Hermione was beyond frustrated at this point.

"Says the one whose family tree looks like a circle." Avery sneered, his Irish accent becoming more pronounced with his growing irritation at the younger witch.

Throwing him a nasty glare, Hermione sat up straighter. "A bit rich coming from you, don't you think?"

Avery scoffed in return. "At least I don't spit on hundreds of years of tradition every time I open my mouth."

It was still a mystery to Hermione how these people actually lived like they did. Pureblood or not, if not for their close-knit community they couldn't have differentiated between the groups if their lives depended on it.

"They're dangerous." He began, "Their kind is the reason we were hunted for so many centuries. Muggle families burning their own children at the stake, can you imagine?" This misplaced fear that had been ingrained into their heads generation over generation was still rearing its ugly head every time another Muggleborn was admitted to Hogwarts.

"Muggles have come so far since then. There is this thing called electricity which powers their cars, radios- You wouldn't believe it if you saw it." The blank faces of her classmates were enough to make Hermione question how the wizarding world had ever succeeded in remaining hidden for so many centuries.

"How come that you're so familiar with muggle inventions, Lestrange", It was Riddle's turn to address her after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Since you're not even taking Muggle Studies, how do you know what electricity is?"

"Tom's right, where did you learn all that?" Avery chimed in.

"I like to read." She spat back.

"Where would you read about muggle technology?" Avery scoffed.

"Muggle newspaper. Minerva gets the latest issue two times a week."

"Merlin, how am I friends with you?"

Hermione smirked at his remark. "We're friends?"

The seventh-year Slytherin grimaced, "The amount of time I have to spend in your presence, certainly makes it seem that way."

"I'm great company." Abraxas, who sat next to her, snorted at her comment.

"You're a menace with a knack for curses, and that's about the only thing that makes you at least tolerable." She watched Avery lean back in his chair.

"As... enlightening as this all is, Slughorn's gathering is starting soon." Tom interrupted their silent staring contest.

Taking a quick glance at the expensive watch on his wrist, Avery nodded and stood up. "You're coming Lestrange?"

Hermione shook her head, "I've already spent enough time with you for the remainder of the week. I'll see you all on Sunday." Before she could reach the door, Riddle's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Stay, you should feel honoured to have been invited in the first place." Slughorns recent invitation to join his prestigious little club – again, still irritated her. She'd hoped to be spared this time, but of course, her cursed luck threw that dream right back into her face.

"Will Walburga be joining us?" The memory of the haughty girl making her skin crawl. Tom had stayed true to his words and had made it his mission to woo the oldest Black daughter. It was a disturbing development as far as Hermione was concerned.

"Creeps me out that one. I tell you it's that awful smile of hers. Too many teeth." Avery added, making Hermione, in turn, give him an approving tilt of her lips.

"She's useful," Tom stated, not bothered the least by the groups shared animosity towards the older witch.

"I still can't believe the Blacks actually accepted your request to court her." Abraxas had caught up to Hermione and was now walking between her and Avery, the two of them towering the petit girl to their right considerably.

"He is a Gaunt after all, boys." Interrupted Slughorn, who was already waiting at his door.

"Right on time, come in, come in." He winked the group in, before leading them to the table at the centre of the room. Two Ravenclaws Hermione had never spoken to outside of their weekly gatherings were already sipping on what looked suspiciously like Firewhisky. Mentally scoffing, she took a seat next to one of the boys.

Evan quickly claimed the chair next to hers and continued to fill her own glass with her favourite plum juice. It was endearing how well he knew her.

"Tom, my boy, where is that lovely witch of yours? I was expecting her to join us as well tonight." Hermione could not believe that Tom's plan had actually worked. After the summer she had returned to a literal avalanche of dramatic daily prophet articles discussing the mysterious young Gaunt heir that had suddenly appeared at Gringotts, demanding entrance to the Vaults of Slytherin himself.

"Walburga will arrive shortly; she has ordered a new set of robes just for tonight." Slughorn nodded enthusiastically at Tom's words, whereas Hermione felt like he was subtly insulting her own state of dress. His eyes did flicker towards her for a second. She was sure of it.

Eying her own plain school uniform, she furrowed her brows. _I'll most certainly not dress up for any of the people in this room_. Tom's weird fixation on appearance be damned. Just as one of the Hogwarts elves began to serve their food, the doors opened again and in stepped Walburga Black. At her entrance, the men at the table stood, leaving Hermione to awkwardly sit by herself.

"Miss Black, just as we were talking about you. Make yourself comfortable, my dear." Slughorn gestured towards the empty chair next to Tom, who immediately made room for the girl to sit down. Walburga's velvet robes cascaded down her willowy body, swishing audibly with every step she took. Hermione had to admit that the girl looked stunning.

"I hope only good things, Professor Slughorn." The diamonds around her neck and dangling tantalisingly from her ears sparkled beautifully in the warm candlelight.

"Of course, my dear. You're in good company after all." Scoffing silently into her drink Hermione watched the other witch sit down gracefully next to Tom, who moved to fill her plate with a selection of sweet treats. It was greatly disturbing to watch him around Walburga. To her, his smile had more in common with a creature baring its teeth than anything else.

"Watching them is always a good show." Evan murmured next to her, making her giggle. Quickly covering her amused reaction up with a cough she turned just in time to see Avery and Dolohov shooting them questioning looks. No one in their group knew how to act around Tom when his girlfriend was around, so it felt like they were walking on eggshells constantly.

They knew how to deal with Riddle, the ambitious heir of Slytherin. Even the slowest amongst them had realised that their unofficial group leader had a darker side that they'd rather not explore too deeply, but none of them had dealt with the doting boyfriend of Walburga Black. During their first official gathering after him claiming his titles, Tom had told them to just continue addressing him as Riddle. Hermione had wondered why, but his only explanation had been, that it was better for his public image, given the Gaunt's tarnished reputation throughout the wizarding world. And since he could only claim his Slytherin name after coming off age, Tom thought it was better to just go with his Muggle name for now.

He had also informed them of his intentions to court Black, but instead of giving them any directions, he'd just told everyone to keep it together around her. Whatever that meant exactly, was free to interpretation. In the end, they had come to a silent understanding to interact as little as possible with the witch.

"That necklace of yours is stunning Miss Black. Family heirloom?" At Slughorns question, Hermione's eyes wandered over the other girl's bejewelled neck again. The intricately woven strings of gold were most likely goblin made. She hadn't been poor in her previous life, but what Black was wearing was easily worth more than her old house.

"It was my great-great-grandmother's, every Black daughter receives an heirloom on her seventeenth birthday." Her pale fingers wandered over the necklace, before halting at one of the countless runes perfectly blending in with the Celtic patterns. "They are meant to protect the child from harm, this one also detects muggles and Mudbloods." She smiled proudly and against her better judgement, Hermione felt her heart constrict.

"Fascinating, how exactly does it work?" Even though Slughorn was by no means against muggleborns, it was still apparent that he preferred purebloods. Even in the future, his club didn't count many members from non-magical backgrounds.

"Well, you see if someone with impure blood touches it, the stones change colour. The more diluted the blood, the darker the stones." Swallowing down the bitter taste in her mouth Hermione listened to Black's explanation.

"It can detect even the faintest trace of filth. It's a testament to my family's diligence that they are so clear right now." _Ahh, the joys of inbreeding_.

"How curious, may I try?" Since it was highly inappropriate for a wizard to just touch a young witch, Walburga indulged the man and carefully unclasped the precious item from her neck. Laying it down in his outstretched hand, the group watched the stones turn to a light grey.

"Muggle grandparents, I presume?"

Slughorn gulped audibly. "Correct, my grandmother was a muggleborn." He examined the necklace closer. "Truly, fascinating. Anyone else wants to give it a try?"

Avery immediately raised his hand and eagerly took the necklace from his professor's hands. "Let me show you what a great lineage looks like." The stones immediately cleared up, nearly matching Walburga's shade. It was sickening to watch. Hermione still found it disturbing how much these people depended on their blood-status to measure their worth.

"Let's see if your mother really was as pure as she claimed to be Lestrange." Hermione paled at the sight of the sparkling gems, but she knew she couldn't refuse. _Finally, I'll see if Rodolphus' words really are true_. Unsure what she'd rather want to see, Hermione quickly grabbed the thing before she could change her mind.

"Won't you let us see it as well?" Walburga asked sweetly, gesturing at Hermione's clenched fist. It was obvious that the girl expected her stone to be darker. Attempting to calm her pounding heart, Hermione opened her hand, crystal-clear diamonds sparkling mockingly in her sweaty palm. Feeling bile rising up her throat Hermione hastily dropped the precious necklace back into Walburga's waiting hands. _Merlin, it's true. I'm a Lestrange_.

"What a pleasant surprise." _There's not a single drop of filth left in your body_. Her father's words from all those years ago echoed loudly in her mind.

"I expected nothing less. The Lestranges can trace their lineage back to Morgana herself." Putting on her most haughty expression, Hermione attempted to collect herself. Walburga curled her lips at the open provocation, clearly aware that the Blacks had only started tracing their own bloodline over a hundred years after Merlin's death.

"How exciting to have so many prestigious houses sitting at my table tonight. But enough of such serious topics, let us return to dinner."

* * *

"Have you seen her face? Merlin, you just made my day Lestrange!" Avery's dark eyes sparkled as he regarded her with a, dare she say, proud look.

They were on their way back to their common rooms after Slughorn had finally ended the gathering. Hermione was eager to get back to her soft bed, her patience for the people around her hanging by a thread.

"The great Walburga Black, out trumped by a Gryffindor." The older boy was still cackling at the witch's sour expression. After her comment, Tom had regarded her with a warning glare, but sometimes Hermione just couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Glad to have made your evening enjoyable." She spoke, her mind constantly replaying Tom's reaction to her not-so-subtle insult. It was probably in her best interest to make him forget about this whole ordeal as fast as possible.

"I'm forever grateful, Lestrange. Still can't believe it's already Rosier's and my last year." Avery turned towards his housemate, who'd been unusually quiet for the past few days.

"Oy Rosier, you're also taking an apprenticeship under your father?"

Pursing his lips, Evan inclined his head. "Yeah, since the situation on the continent is getting worse, my family is moving most of our business back to the isles, it's a ridiculous amount of paperwork." He explained, already looking exhausted by the mere thought of it.

Hermione wasn't sure what exactly the Rosier's did since they hadn't been around in her original time anymore, but at this point, it would be awkward for her to ask.

"Thank Merlin we stayed in good old Ireland. I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my days at some wizards club, sipping on a glass of fire whisky and getting myself a nice witch." Avery looked genuinely excited about this prospect, proving once again why their government never seemed to get anything done with people just like Avery pulling the ropes.

"I guess I never picked you for the ambitious type anyways," Hermione commented, earning herself a surprisingly hard shove from the boy next to her.

"Eat a flobberworm Lestrange. At least I don't have to spend the rest of my days cooped up at some cold manor, running after my spoiled spawn." Now it was her turn to shove him into poor, unsuspecting Evan, who was walking next to him.

"So, who's the lucky man? Evan? I guess since Orion's free again, you can also try your luck with the Blacks. You'd fit right in with them."

"Let her be, how you two manage to go from laughing to pulling at each other's hair in a matter of seconds- it's ridiculous." Successfully pulling the bickering pair away from each other, Evan gently steered the fuming girl towards the great stairs. Since Tom had left with Walburga after dinner, nothing was stopping his two friends from getting at each other's throats. Something they subconsciously seemed to notice after a few minutes of peace.

Evan's surprisingly firm grip suddenly reminded her of another pair of hands around her shoulders. The memory of a green flash, making her stop dead in her tracks.

"See you later, Avery." _Too close_. Evan tucked her closer to his side, caging her in. Her chest constricted painfully, and before her mind could process what was happening, she was already pushing the startled boy off her.

"Don't touch me!" Her vision was spinning. An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her stomach, making her nauseous. Flinching away from her confused friend, she tried to calm her breath. _Oh god._ Her house-elves' lifeless form flashed before her unseeing eyes.

"Hermione, love what's wrong?" His soothing voice did nothing to calm her frenzied mind. Breathing hurt, everything hurt. She had to get away, but her feet were stuck.

"Hermione, talk to me." Suddenly he was in front of her. His face mere inches away from her own, his prying hands closing in on her.

"Rosier, don't." Avery cautioned, but it was too late. The moment his fingers closed around her arms; Hermione's mind sprang into action. Her wand moved, and suddenly Evan was gone again. She heard the boy curse as he was thrown back, his body crashing into Avery who stopped his friend from hitting the floor.

"Damn it, Lestrange! Get a grip, would ya?" Avery shouted while helping Evan stand.

"Don't yell at her. Can't you see she's scared?" Evan pulled away from the other Slytherin, making his way over to Hermione again.

"Scared my arse, she's clearly hysteric." Avery grabbed Evan's arm. "Don't touch her. It'll just make it worse."

"What are you talking about? We need to help her!"

Hermione couldn't breathe. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, desperately trying to keep her blood flowing with the dwindling amounts of oxygen in her system. Her head was pounding, her vision blurry as if she was underwater. _She's dead_.

"She needs to work this out on her own. We-"The world around her tipped sideways.

"Shite, Rosier!" Both boys watched in horror as the girl swayed dangerously for a second before her legs gave out under her. Moving faster than he ever had in his life, Evan scrambled to catch her before she would hit the cold tiles.

"Hermione!" Despite Avery's advice, he pulled the girl into his chest, slowly lowering the two of them to the hard ground.

Hermione was barely able to formulate a thought. Evan's heart was hammering against her back, his sudden proximity thankfully no longer causing her mind to come to a standstill. She felt herself calm down enough to finally be able to draw another much-needed breath.

"'S she okay?" Avery crouched down next to the pair, reaching towards her but quickly pulling his pale hands back when he heard her breath hitch.

"Merlin, Lestrange, you really have that damsel in distress act down." At his weak attempt to lighten up the mood, Hermione managed to roll her eyes. The tears came suddenly and unexpected, but once the dam broke, she couldn't stop herself.

Her barely contained sobs caused Evan to hug her even closer to his chest, proper decorum long forgotten. "Talk to us love, what is happening right now?" The concern in his voice made her only cry harder.

"He- he killed her." She just was so tired of having to deal with everything on her own. "It's my fault, but I just had to get away."

"Who- what are you talking about love? Who's dead? That Warren girl?" At Evan's question, the heaviness in her heart threatened to crush what was left of it. She hadn't thought about the poor child in months. Just like everyone else she'd forgotten the young Ravenclaw who'd soon return to haunt that dreadful bathroom she'd been murdered in. _I'm despicable_.

"Hermione, you need to calm down. Everything is going to be alright." She wanted to believe Evan so badly. With trembling hands, she untangled herself from the boy and tried to stand.

"Careful!" It was Avery who steadied her. Fresh salty tears spilt from her eyes, leaving burning trails in their wake.

Digging her nails into her wrist, Hermione tried to ground herself, but now another lifeless body was flashing in front of her inner eye, proving her own failings further. "I should've just died back then."

It was barely a whisper, but Avery had been close enough to hear what she'd said. Grabbing the girl tightly by her shoulders, he shook her until her blood-shot eyes found his own.

"Pull yourself together Lestrange, you don't know what you're saying."

Evan watched the two, his hands aimlessly fidgeting with his wand. Avery's harsh words only made her cry harder, his tone too familiar to what she'd to listen to for the past years. Burrowing her hands in her face, the sobbing girl allowed the two boys to guide her into one of the empty classrooms on the floor, absentmindedly grabbing the tissue Evan had conjured after closing the door.

"What in Merlin's name is going on Lestrange? Who's dead?" Avery was clearly losing his patience with her, but just like Evan his pureblood upbringing prevented him from leaving a distraught witch to herself. If she hadn't been so upset, she'd laughed at the fidgeting boy.

"Don't yell at her." Evan crouched down in front of her seat. "Hermione, love, please talk to us." He carefully pulled the tearstained cloth from her hand and just as he'd done after her lost duel against Avery, he began to gently wipe her wet cheeks.

"He killed my house-elf after I tried to… leave." She stuttered out, tired of keeping everything to herself. It had gotten to the point where even the most potent sleeping draught wouldn't chase the nightmares away. Merlin, she had a full-on breakdown because Evan… sweet Evan touched her. She couldn't continue like this.

"Who? Your father?" Evan asked slowly, probably afraid that she might start crying again.

"What do you think?" She hissed, guilt washing over her as she watched the boy's movements falter for a second. "I'm sorry Evan, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright, you're upset- "He hesitated for a second. "Why did you try to leave, and where to for that matter?"

Hermione suddenly realised what a mess her life truly was. What was she supposed to tell them? That she'd died and woken up in a child's body fifty years in the past? That her father literally killed her before using an archaic ritual to make her his own?

A bitter laugh escaped her dry lips. She'd rather jump off the astronomy tower than tell anyone their secret. Rodolphus would probably gladly shove her if she ever confessed their plans.

"We had an argument as usual. Seems like this time I overstepped." She didn't even believe herself. And apparently neither did the two boys.

"Bullshit," Avery exclaimed, pointing his finger at the shivering girl. "I don't know about your family life, but murdering house-elves is on another level."

"Hermione, please. You can be honest with us. We won't tell anyone."

Narrowing her eyes at Evan's desperate plea, Hermione had finally calmed down enough to realise her foolishness. What possessed her to think, it'd be a good idea to tell them or anyone about Winny. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut for once? "Please Evan, I can't talk about this."

"Can't or won't?" Avery drawled.

"None of your damn business Avery."

She needed to get away from these two. No matter how upset she still was, she couldn't risk spilling even more secrets. They were already suspicious enough; she knew that killing an elf had some dire legal repercussions. The fact that Rodolphus had done so just to teach her lesson gave them more insights into her personal life than she was comfortable with.

"Are you serious Lestrange? You nearly split your head open just now. If Rosier hadn't caught you, you could've explained yourself to the mediwitch." Avery wasn't having any of her flimsy excuses as it seemed, and she found herself panicking again. She just wanted to be left alone already.

"A dead house-elf is nothing compared to the other things he did. Please, I don't want any more trouble." Wide eyes and a trembling bottom lip seemed to do the trick as she watched Avery flinch.

"Whatever. Don't come crying to me later, though. We did offer to help you." The older boy regarded her with a final glare before leaving her and Evan behind in the classroom.

"You could come to live with me after this semester ends. It's my final year, and I'm old enough to-"

"No." Hermione interrupted Evan's rambling, knowing where this conversation was going. "I won't marry you. Especially not just to get away from my father."

Evan's shoulders sagged at her blatant rejection, but thankfully he dropped the argument. "Promise that you'll come to me when you feel sad again. I'll keep you company, nothing else."

Hermione couldn't even begin to fathom how she'd managed to make the future death eater care for her. In her mind, Voldemort's followers were nothing but pure evil. Stripped of their humanity the moment they sided with the homicidal dark wizard. But now?

Wasn't she the same as the people she'd feared and despised so much before? She'd be, no she was one of his first - she didn't want to put it into words – followers. She belonged to that original cursed circle of his, that would one day set the foundations for the first wizarding war. They were the reason thousands of witches and wizards would lose their lives in the future. _No, don't think like that_.

"Hermione?" _It won't happen again. He'll become Minister of Magic, and I'll protect the muggleborns from him and his cronies. Everything will work out._

"Hermione! Are you listening to me?" Evan's worried voice pulled her from her whirling thoughts.

"I'm fine. I just needed a moment." She was so tired of lying, but what else was she supposed to do?

Telling anyone about her secret would only complicate things. She wanted to trust Evan, but she had seen how he acted around Minny and other muggleborns students. The sneers, the underhand hexes. Being kind to her didn't make him a good person. Her eyes wandered over his face. The deep creases around his lips and on his forehead made him look much older than he was. _He'd be disgusted by me_.

If he knew he was in love with a mudblood… She didn't want to entertain the thought any further. _I'm not a mud- muggleborn anymore. I'm a Lestrange_. A faint feeling of relief washed over her, clashing with the revulsion that was bubbling up her chest at the same time. She was safe from people like Evan and the Blacks. She wouldn't be hunted just because her parents weren't magical. For the first time in her life, she wasn't discriminated because of her blood.

Her inner Gryffindor was raging at the unfairness of this society, but it was so easy, so damn tempting to just close her eyes to the wrongdoings of these people... _The grass really is greener on the other side_. Even as a daughter, she had privileges; she didn't even know existed in her previous life. Wealth beyond measure, respect. One word to Rodolphus and she could ruin entire families if they offended her in some manner.

"We should get you back to your rooms, it's late." Evan had gotten up from his knees in front of her and held out his hands.

Without another thought, she allowed him to help her stand and followed him to the door.

"I know you don't believe me, but you can trust me. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you." With one warm hand on her back, he guided her through the deserted corridors back to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione just wanted to forget that this day ever happened. She didn't want to think about Winny or murderous dark lords. At sixteen-years-old, all Hermione Lestrange wanted was to be left alone.

"Good night Mione, and remember, if it ever gets too much-"

"I'll come to you; I know. Thanks, Evan." She felt numb. It would be so easy to become like them. Like Walburga or even Dorea. Ignorant of the injustice happening around them.

 _No. I owe it to everyone who lost their lives to make this world a better place._ No matter what Rodolphus did to her, she had to endure. She was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake. _Only one more year_. Just like most of the other boys in their group, Tom would take an apprenticeship under her father at the Ministry to establish himself and Hermione would be free for the first time in eight years.

Rodolphus had insisted she'd come as well, but witches were banned from training for higher Ministry positions. She hadn't minded at all, the thought of having to spend even more time after school with most of Tom's circle making her nauseous. They'd decided that she'd take over the family's finances, much to Loreen's horror, and represent the house Lestrange in official hearings. It was a figurative slap in the faces of the rest of the gamot after Rodolphus had succeeded in securing her position as his heir against all the backlash…

* * *

 **January 1944** :

After her return home, Hermione was overcome with a strange sense of deja-vu as she looked down at the tiny human in her arms. _Alivia Lestrange_. She didn't look anything like her father. Bright eyes, so unlike Rabastan's own, watched her curiously as she was overcome by the memories of holding the girl's older brother seemingly not too long ago.

"Isn't she precious?" Next to her, Loreen stood with a warm smile on her face. She looked tired. Her robes were as pristine as ever and her hair styled to perfection, but behind the glamours, she'd put on, Hermione could see a heartbroken young woman.

After Rabastan had practically dragged her back to the manor all those months ago, she'd become withdrawn. The birth of his daughter seemed to have done nothing to calm her husband's rage at her for leaving him. His previous infuriation with the young witch seemed to have cooled down considerably and more than once since her return she'd heard the pair fight in the halls.

A tug on her skirt caused the girl to look down at the mop of dark curls that was currently trying to get her attention.

"Mione up!" Chubby arms stretched out as high as he could, Edwin regarded her with an expectant look. Whereas his sister clearly took after their mother, her other cousin was the spitting image of her uncle.

"Here, let me take Alivia, you go play with Edwin, he missed you." Out of the three of them, Loreen seemed to trust Hermione the most with her children.

She hadn't forgotten what Hermione had done to their unwelcome guests a while ago, but it seemed she trusted her from woman to woman to keep the children out of harm's way. It was as flattering as it was annoying since she found herself entertaining her two cousins more and more often. She liked them, no doubt, but she didn't know what to do with them most of the time. And no matter what people might say, talking to a toddler became mind-numbingly dull after a while.

"Up! Up!" Bowing down, she picked the needy toddler up.

"Yes, I heard you. Wanna go to the library?" As usual, his tiny fingers found a loose curl to pull on. Hissing at the sudden sting, Hermione readjusted the troublesome boy on her hips.

"Dinner is at 6, don't be late again!" Loreen called after her, and Hermione waved her hand.

"I know, I know. It won't happen again." She wished she could just hide in her favourite room of the manor forever. Turning around another corner, she nearly ran into her uncle, narrowly avoiding his broad chest by stumbling sideways.

"Wha-"

"Papa!" Edwin squealed, reaching for the older man.

Rabastan looked at his son for a second with an unreadable expression on his face. "You've really grown up, Hermione. A child suits you." He turned to her, a slight smirk on his lips.

No matter what his relationship with his wife was, he still acted the same around her as he always had. Hermione scoffed, "Maybe if you and the rest of the death eaters hadn't started a war, I might still be back home with a merry little family of my own now instead of carrying your spawn around." She'd have turned 24 this year in the future.

"And taint our magic even further with your impure blood. I think this is a much better outcome." He pointed at her and his babbling son, who was still trying to catch his attention.

"Go die in a fire, Rabastan."

"Why don't you take a long walk off the end of a short pier, Hermione?" He bit back.

The two continued to glower at each for a second before Edwin interrupted their silent staring contest with a fierce tuck on her hair. "Down, Down!" Nearly dropping the struggling boy, Hermione let go of him and watched Edwin hug his father's leg with shining eyes.

"Don't do that, Edwin." He removed his son's hands from his person and pushed him back towards Hermione. "Don't make any more trouble and listen to your cousin." The child looked heartbroken.

"You're doing a great job uncle, just a little more apathy and he can check another box in his trauma diary." Hermione took Edwin's hand and pushed herself past Rabastan, purposefully hitting the older wizard with her shoulder.

"Wicked girl." He hissed after her.

"See you at dinner!" She chirped, silently fuming at the man. Loreen's accusation of them ruining her innocent children echoing in her mind. She didn't want her cousins to grow up the same way, so many of her friends had. Distant parents, fighting- Loreen was a kind-hearted woman, but she didn't stand a chance against the two Lestrange brothers…

* * *

 **Thanks for your patience with me. I edited most of the previous chapters, checking for spelling mistakes and such. Only one year left at Hogwarts. There aren't that many chapters left which is super exciting… and daunting.**

 **xoxo**


	15. 7th Year - Part I

**September 1944**

"Ready?"

The deep voice of her father pulled Hermione from her thoughts. Brushing over some non-existent wrinkles on her unusually formal robes, she took a deep breath before nodding at herself in the mirror. "As ready as I'll ever be. Loreen will have a heart attack when she sees this." Her eyes wandered over the soft fabrics of her loose jet-black trousers and heavily embroidered outer robe.

"You look beautiful," Rodolphus exclaimed, his hands on her shoulders and his eyes finding her own in the looking glass. He wore matching robes which somehow made him look even more intimidating than usual.

"As my father, you have to say that." She joked and saw the man preen at the mention of his title. Hermione would never forgive him for what he'd done, but during her training to take over the daily business this summer, the two of them had spent so much time together that she would've lost her mind if she hadn't compromised.

At seventeen she was finally able to get actively involved in official matters, and Rodolphus had kept his promise to hand over some of his responsibilities as she entered her final year at Hogwarts. Today she'd be formally introduced as the next Head of House Lestrange at the ministry, much to Rabastan's disdain. At least he'd forgiven his wife for taking Edwin and made a conscious effort to be a… passable father. He was still distant, but at least he didn't use his hands or wand for punishment. She didn't know if she could've sat still and watch that man hurt his children.

"That might be so, but that doesn't take away the sincerity of my statement." Hermione felt her father's surprisingly warm hands run through her curls. Without any charms and potions to hold them up, they had grown to a ridiculous length. Even Loreen had suggested that it may be time for a trim and she belonged to the same circle of people who thought that a proper witch should have enough hair to make even Rapunzel look plain.

"You definitely have Bella's hair." It was barely a whisper, but it made her blood freeze nonetheless.

"Don't." Hermione stumbled away from the older man, who looked at her like she'd struck him. "Never, ever compare me to that vile woman. She was not my mother." The last part came out as a hiss, the disgust at that thought clinging to her ribs.

"I didn't mean to. I-"

"No. Don't say her name, stop comparing me to her. It makes me sick." He'd always done that. Off-hand comments about their physical similarities but it never truly struck her as much as it did now. She was a child back then. She'd thought that once she grew up, her body would change, and she would look like herself again. She caught another glance of her raven locks in her reflection. _They are supposed to be brown_. Only she didn't look like she used to.

"Forgive me, I just can't help myself sometimes." Rodolphus reached out to her and placed his hands on her arms.

She subconsciously flinched at the gesture. It was a testament to his abhorrent treatment of his supposed daughter for most of their time in this era. "Promise me." She hissed.

"Promise you what?" He questioned.

"That you'll stop. No more comparing me to your dead wife. The madwoman that tortured me until I thought I'd die." Her stomach still fell at the mere mention of what had happened to her so many years ago. The wounds from that day might've healed, but her soul was forever scarred by this cruel act.

"Compose yourself girl, you'll be the face of this house soon." It was apparent to Hermione, how over the years, her father had created a glorified memory of his deceased lover in his head. Losing himself to the delusion that she was theirs. It's what he'd always wanted, and she could empathise with his desire for a picture-perfect family. But she wouldn't allow him to replace her amazing mother with that monster. Ever.

"I'm as calm as a centaur father. I just ask of you to stop bringing up that woman when you look at me." Her voice cracked, this was supposed to be her big day, why were they arguing again?

"Bellatrix was mad. But once upon a time I married her because she was a brilliant, strong-headed witch, who also happened to be a Black. When I look at you now, I see that same ambition, that raw magical talent." He gently cupped her face in his calloused hands, causing her to freeze up at the foreign gesture. "You're not her though. I'll keep my thoughts to myself from now on."

Hermione wanted to believe him, but she also knew the man that was Rodolphus Lestrange. Good intentions alone weren't enough with him. His moods were as fickle as that of a pixie, and even if he meant every word he just said, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't change his mind someday. For now, she'd take what she could get.

"Thank you. Now can we please leave?" She answered, desperate to change the topic.

Rodolphus chuckled at her pleading glance, and together they made their way downstairs. Much to Hermione's relief Loreen and her children were nowhere to be seen, so without further ado, they travelled to the Ministry of Magic…

* * *

"Hermione Lestrange, born to Rodolphus Lestrange and-" The ministry official looked up from his scroll.

"Her mother wishes to remain anonymous for obvious reasons." She rolled her eyes at Rodolphus' explanation. Apparently, it was usual for an unmarried woman to renounce her relationship to her child for her to stay a desirable match.

"Ah, yes. Naturally. Well, then." The man in front of them looked ancient. Hermione could barely make out a face under his bushy white eyebrows and just as wild beard.

"Hermione Lestrange, born to Rodolphus Lestrange shall henceforth, after article 315b, third paragraph, revision in progress, be named heiress to the house Lestrange for there were no other male direct descendants at the time of the first announcement on the 19th of September 1941." With a monotonous voice that rivalled that of her history professor, the ministry official continued to read the declaration.

"Miss Lestrange will inherit two Gamot seats upon the abdication of the current head of house Lestrange. It has been brought to the ministry's attention that the father of Edwin Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, wishes to challenge the claim of Miss Lestrange once his brother resigns from his duties."

"What?!" Rodolphus spat, clearly taken aback by the man's last words. Hermione honestly couldn't say that she was surprised. Rabastan had not liked the idea of her being his superior one day at all.

The old man sighed. "It has been brought to the ministry's attention that the fa-"

"I heard you the first time old man. Are you saying that my brother is contesting my daughter's claim?"

The ministry official read over his scroll. "Well, it appears so, yes. Yes, indeed."

Hermione could practically see Rodolphus' composure flying out the window. "Excuse me, sir, what exactly does that mean for me?" She interrupted before her father had a chance to speak.

"He or his son may challenge you to a formal duel for the title the day your father abdicates. Both duellists must be off age, otherwise there are no limitations. There have been cases in the past where two family branches have fought to the death." _Well, doesn't that sound just great_.

"We'll deal with this back home. Is that all? Or do we have to sit through another of your thrilling readings?" Rodolphus asked curtly, his cheeks stained red from his rising anger.

"I only need your signature and that of the next head of house right here." A hovering quill and parchment appeared in front of them. "Here, and one drop of blood for this form." Without warning something pricked Hermione's thumb.

"Ouch!"

"Thank you very much, Miss Lestrange, very much appreciated. This should be all. Please refer to the department of government affairs for the addition of Miss Lestrange to the list of Gamot successors." Before they could answer, the door behind them opened again, a clear sign of dismissal. Huffing her father put her hand in the crook of his arm, forcefully dragging the startled girl out with him.

"This is why I never come here. Bureaucratic pricks, the lot of them." He grumbled.

Unsure what to say, Hermione allowed him to escort her through the winding corridors of the underground building until they finally reached the office for governmental affairs.

"Mr Lestrange, how good to see you. It has been quite a while, hasn't it?" Hermione didn't know who the rude man at the front desk was, but she was aware of Rodolphus' aversion to official Gamot hearings. Stating that they were a waste of breath most of the time.

"I don't see how this is any of your business Sir-"

"Edgecomb, Carson Edgecomb," The other man interrupted.

"Ah, the puppet talks how quaint, seeing as you're sitting here at your fancy little assistants' desk and not inside that prestigious chamber as I do, I advise you kindly sir, to never interrupt me again." At Rodolphus' withering glare the man suddenly went very still.

"Of course, Lord Lestrange. What may I do for you today Milord… Lestrange?" Hiding a snicker behind her long sleeves, Hermione looked up to her father. It was surprisingly amusing to watch him go after people that weren't her.

"This is my daughter. Hermione Lestrange. Add her to your precious book of succession, would you?" He did look rather striking in his billowing robes, and she suddenly appreciated that they were matching.

"Ah, daughters are usually not allowed to-"

Her fathers' hands came crashing down on that poor man's desk. "H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e Lestrange".

The flustered ministry worker rushed towards the back of his office. He drew his wand and proceeded to unlock an intricately carved chest sitting in the far corner of the room. With a nervous glance back at the pair, he pulled out a worn leather back before returning to his desk, where the older Lestrange was still glowering at him.

"Alright, Miss-" He nearly choked on her name.

"Miss Lestrange, would you so kindly put your wand right here and confirm your identity?" He pointed at her newly added name in the book.

The entire page was filled with the names of the previous heads of her house and for the first time she realised how old her new name truly was and the importance it carried. These few families decided the entire fate of wizarding Britain. She'd never realised how undemocratic this government really was. Of course, in the future there were a few honorary gamot members from the broader public, mostly muggleborns since they had no other way to claim government seats, but still. It was shocking.

"There you go." Focussing her mind back on the task at hand, she watched her name light up for a second, apparently confirming her nomination.

The assistant managed not to look too appalled by the fact that a witch had been approved, but was still met with the full force of Rodolphus' disdain who'd clearly seen the other man's frown.

"Congratulations Miss Lestrange, I hope we shall meet on many more occasions."

"Not if I can't help it." Rodolphus murmured before once again pulling Hermione with him back to the floo transport.

"Well, that was exciting." She stated drily once they arrived and joined the shortest queue.

Rodolphus huffed, "Curse Merlin that I cannot give you all of my ministry business to take care of. Once our Lord is in power, you'll see to that."

"What? Equal rights for wizards and witches?" She questioned. "Never thought you'd be a fan of that. How will you control my life if I have the law on my side?" She teased, not expecting him to really answer her.

"If that means I don't have to set another foot in this dreadful place ever again, then so be it." He spoke gravely, causing Hermione to laugh.

A few years ago she wouldn't have dreamed of speaking so casually with the former death eater, but the way he was looking at her now with that proud smile on his face that he usually wore when he showed her off to his mostly horrible wizard friends- it felt great. He had his flaws. Merlin so many flaws, but she could appreciate the sincerity of his feelings towards her. To him, she was his daughter, and as she'd grown older, she'd learned to live with the expectations that came with that label.

She'd never forgive him, but she was willing to work with him. If this was the only way for her to save her friends and prevent a war, she'd swallow her anger and stay with the Lestranges. Soon, she'd be able to live on her own terms, graduation was only a year away after all. No placement at the ministry meant, she could maybe get her own place, start working until Tom took over. She'd no doubt that he'd want all of his possible allies close to him as soon as possible. If that meant revoking a law that banned witches from government positions, then so be it.

"After you." She was pulled out of her musings by her father's hand on her back as he pushed her into the green flames.

"A little warning would be nice next time!" She managed to say before Hermione was whisked away…

* * *

 **December 1944**

Hogwarts without Evan felt strange. She'd never realised how much time they spent together until after he'd graduated. He must've given Abraxas clear instructions what he was supposed to do in his place for the few months he wasn't around.

Like clockwork, the Malfoy heir showed up at her common room every morning to escort her to class and carry her books. It would've been endearing if he hadn't used this time, to complain about his efforts in great detail.

"I have to get up twenty minutes early, 'cause you bloody Gryffindors decided to dwell in the most northern tower of this cursed castle." Abraxas turned towards her, his silken hair nearly escaping the velvet bow that held it back. "How do you have twice as many books as I, even though we're in all of the same classes?" He continued his rant, readjusting the pile of bound paper in his arms.

"If it bothers you so much, just stop doing it Abraxas. I don't care. I can carry my books just fine." It was far too early to get annoyed, Hermione thought to herself.

"And get another howler from a raving Rosier at four in the morning?" Abraxas asked. "No, thank you."

Scoffing at her classmate, Hermione tried to tune out the rest of his whining until they finally reached the glasshouse for their Herbology class.

"Miss Lestrange, Mr Malfoy, you two are early, how nice. Join us. Tom and I are preparing everybody's coursework for this semester." Their professor gestured for them to follow her to the back where she spotted Riddle already potting some nasty looking plants. "Leave your books at the front, don't forget to grab some gloves and aprons."

Abraxas shot her a baleful glare, both of them knowing that it was her fault that they had to help since she insisted on being at least half an hour early to every class.

"Mornin' Tom, how can we help?" Pulling the apron over her head, she joined the newly appointed head boy at the table.

Finishing his own work first, he turned around, "Malfoy, I see you're still playing errand boy for Rosier?" Tom whipped his dirty gloves on his already stained apron. "There is no other reason for you to be actually on time."

Riddle disapproved greatly of any of his associates having a less than stellar school record or behaving like a general human being with flaws for that matter. Since last year he had decided that on his path to greatness, he couldn't afford to slip up, even with the people he surrounded himself with. Much to the displeasure of most of his Knights. They had started calling their group the Knights of Walpurgis right after the last Christmas break. Hermione thought it was the most pretentious thing she'd ever participated in.

"I wouldn't want to jeopardise my position at the top of our classes, Tom. If that means, getting up a little early, I'd be happy to do so." Abraxas muttered, the apparent lack of coffee in his system making him sound less than sincere.

"As you should," Riddle replied, turning his attention back to Hermione who'd just watched her friend getting chewed out by their leader up until now. "Lestrange, grab yourself a few pots and stop dawdling around."

Rolling her eyes at his pushy attitude, she helped herself to some of the brightly coloured plants waiting to be potted and set to work…

* * *

"Do you want to spend the holidays with us, Tom?" Hermione asked the other boy as they made their way towards the library. She enjoyed studying with Riddle, he continued to amaze her with his seemingly bottomless knowledge of magical theory and made it their tradition to spend their Sunday evenings at the library.

"No, I'd rather spend Yule in a bunker with the rest of muggle London." He drawled, earning himself an exasperates sigh from the witch at his side.

"Why are you like that? A simple yes, would've been enough."

"Because, to a stupid question, you get a stupid answer." He told the flustered girl.

"Oh, pardon me, my Lord. Next time I shall demand your presence at my humble abode." The words had left her mouth before her brain could catch up. Panicked by the sudden stillness of her companion, she stopped in her tracks. "I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Say it again." His voice swept over her rushing thoughts like an icy wave.

"What?" Hermione didn't understand.

"What did you just call me?" A smirk, a proper smirk stretched over the Slytherin's face, giving him a boyish appearance that threw Hermione completely off the rails.

"…My Lord?" Every time she'd heard one of his followers call him by that title, flashed before her inner eyes.

"Yes, Hermione?" Her heart skipped a beat. _Merlin be damned_. _How does he make my name sound like that_? She didn't know how to reply to his teasing. Mortification clashed with the actual realisation that she had called Voldemort her Lord. Which he was, only now he was an actual one. Since his last birthday his official title was Lord Slytherin. The press had gone nuts over the news and Walburga Black had somehow managed to look even further down her nose at the prospect of becoming the next Lady Slytherin.

"You're so mean. Don't do that, your girlfriend can take care of those weird power fantasies of yours." It was during times like these that she noticed how much more time she spent in the company of wizards. A proper witch would have never uttered the words she just had thrown at his head.

"I'm scandalised Miss Lestrange and don't know what you're insinuating." Riddle's eyes practically sparkled with mischief. It was apparently the third emotion he'd developed after rage and sarcasm. Technically only one of these was an actual emotion but at this point Hermione would take anything than cold apathy. If he derived enjoyment from tormenting people, she'd rather have him tease them than curse them.

"You know what, why don't you just stay with the Blacks this year? I'm sure they will be thrilled to have you." She eventually answered, ready to get this conversation over with.

Riddle wrinkled his nose, "I'd rather gauge my own eyes out than spend even more time with even more Black away from school."

Snickering at his blatant dislike for the stuck-up family, Hermione pushed the doors to the library open. "Are you sure you want to continue courting her?"

"She's useful to my cause and since my only bearable option has decided she'd rather burn the supremacy of wizards to the ground; I'll have to stick with Black."

Hermione nearly stumbled over her own feet at his words, painfully aware that she was the bearable option. _Tom Riddle finds me bearable_. She went from expendable to bearable. And it had only taken her seven years of faking, pretending and lying to not only everyone around her but herself to get there.

She wanted to cry. How was she ever supposed to sway Riddle away from his megalomaniac plans if it had taken her so many years to get him to admit that she was bearable. They were supposed to be close by now. She didn't think Tom saw her or anyone as a friend. She was a far cry from him seeing her as his equal. She figured she was more of a well-liked underling at that point, ranking only marginally higher than Malfoy and he was basically Riddle's right-hand man in the future.

"So, this is what it takes to silence the great Hermione Lestrange. I'll remember that." His lips dripping with sarcasm, the head boy pulled her from her silent internal crisis.

Hermione hastily followed him to their table and pulled out her homework.

"If I didn't require an heir, I'd have waited for you, Hermione. But alas, I don't think I can persuade you to give up your titles and carry on the line of Slytherin." He sounded as if he was talking about the weather, not them having a child.

Hermione felt herself getting dizzy. It was damn near impossible to differentiate between his moods. Was he serious? She knew he favoured intelligence so of course if she'd accept his offer, he'd take her over Walburga every day. But then, maybe he was just toying with her to get a reaction he hadn't seen before. He liked to do that. It was the same when he kissed her a few months ago. He enjoyed riling people up, especially her. "Please be serious about this, Tom. Marriage is not something to be taken lightly."

He shrugged, "All of these pureblood traditions of yours. The fidelity, the unbreakable vows. Of course, one would feel pressured. Did you know that in the Muggle world you can just leave when you decide you had enough? Until death do us part is figurative."

How they had gone from, where do you spend your holidays, to Riddle explaining to her how muggle marriages worked, she didn't know. She couldn't tell him that she knew, so she settled for a questioning look. "How curious."

"Once I grow tired of my lovely wife, I'll come to you, Hermione. Since I'll swear an unbreakable vow, I cannot seriously harm her, but you? You can."

And suddenly Hermione knew why Riddle was telling her about his future plans with Walburga. Because, naturally, he didn't want to be a sane person. He wanted her to kill his wife once she was no longer useful to him. _Morgana help me_. "Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that?"

"Because I tell you to. I trust you, Hermione. If you want my help in your quest to save the muggleborns and liberate the witches of britain, you'll have to do some things for me in return."

Taken aback by his direct words, Hermione struggled to form an answer.

"You won't be very useful in the beginning. The rest of the Knights are already starting to establish our network, but it'll take a while for you to join us." Riddle began, "So, while the others are working hard to earn my favour I'm working pro bono for you until you join the ministry. And that isn't really fair, is it?"

"I- you cannot just tell me do something so atrocious as if it were nothing. You're not even married yet. Why are you already plotting the murder of your wife?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"Because I like to plan ahead. Walburga and I will get married at the end of next year. After that, it'll take what? Two to three years until I have my heir and a wife, I have no need for anymore." Tom's words didn't even register in her mind at this point, but he kept talking.

"By then, I will have enough support to change some things, so you take care of her, and I'll get you into the ministry that same year."

So that was the price that she had to pay. What she had to do to get into the ministry. Kill a mother. To continue to stay at his side after school, she'd have to become a murderer. She felt bile rising up her throat.

"I can see you need to think about this proposal. Who knows, maybe everything will take its course, and she might die in childbirth, wouldn't that be convenient for you." Hermione didn't know how much longer she could listen to his cold words. She couldn't just get up and leave, but her hands felt clammy, and the thought of ever having to raise her wand with the intent to kill again made her sick to her stomach. "…Or maybe you'll find another way of convincing me to get you that ministry position you so desperately want. Only time will tell." He finally seemed to be finished with his monologue.

Struggling to keep her composure, Hermione pressed her lips together until they were but a white line. "This is insane, Tom."

"Stop pitying yourself, you think you're the only one I'm tasking with removing unwanted assets?" He dared to sound incredulous.

She just couldn't fathom the pits of the human mind. She'd seen what he was capable of. He had made her his alibi for the murder of his last remaining family. She had heard Rabastan talk about him killing an old muggle couple back when they first arrived here as if he'd just returned from a pleasant holiday.

Still, Hermione was unable to connect these horrible acts to the person she was sharing her dinner with, her classmate who she discussed her passions until the moon hung high in the sky many nights of the week. She'd never seen Tom Riddle kill a person. At some point, he and Voldemort had become two completely different persons in her head. Tom Riddle was just as brilliant as he was ambitious but he was not some snake-faced Villain.

She didn't want to see the bad in people. Hermione believed that everyone deserved a second chance if they were willing to change. How many second chances had she given Riddle or the Lestranges by now? The young witch suddenly felt very lost. This was supposed to be her best year yet. She was finally seventeen, and Rodolphus had made her succession to the Lestrange fortune official.

Now, as she sat in front of her own dark Lord in the making, she wondered if she'd been wrong about her role in this world. Maybe she'd put herself on a pedestal, embracing the delusion that a single little girl could change the fate of the wizarding world. But if her purpose wasn't to save everyone than what was she doing here?

"Hermione, you haven't written a single line since we arrived." Silver eyes found her own.

Something in her snapped "I don't want to do this anymore." Her chair fell to the ground as she suddenly stood, her fingers painfully digging into her palms.

Taking notice of her pale knuckles, Tom stood as well, carefully taking her trembling hands in his own soft ones. "It's alright, Hermione. Come here."

She found herself clinging to the taller boy, her chest buried in the robes she'd gotten him for his birthday. She wanted to yell at him. To curse him until he… until he what? Hermione didn't know anymore. Helping Tom Riddle was her only purpose in this world. Who was she without Tom? Just another witch. Hermione Granger despised mediocracy. The young man she was clinging to like he was her saving grace was her key to becoming someone. He'd change the wizarding world with or without her, but if she didn't have Tom, she'd be just another nobody in his grand scheme…

* * *

 **Thanks for all your lovely reviews. xoxo**


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